Climbing Out Of the Abyss
by Mickey3
Summary: Jack, with the help of his teammates and friends, deals with the effects of withdrawal from the sarcophagus. Sequel series to my "Into the Abyss" series.
1. Just the Beginning

**Just the Beginning  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/6/07

SEASON: 6

SPOILERS: Abyss, small one for Need

CONTENT LEVEL: PG

CONTENT WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 1301

AUTHORS NOTE: Well lookie here! My muse has finally decided to cooperate. I had started to work on this series as soon as "Into the Abyss" was done, then she got all stubborn and decided _she_ wanted to work on other Stargate fic's. Not to mention my Scott (from the X-Men) muse decided to come back and play again after a very, _very_, long hiatus. The Mal and Dylan started to put their two cents in and I've now got a two Firefly and a few Andromeda fic's rattling around in the ole noggin. It's becoming extremely crowded, and _loud_, in my poor, addled brain.

* * *

"Damn it!" I bellow as I fling my arm out. "I said I'm _not_ hungry." The nurse flinches as the tray of slop the mess passes off as food goes flying from her hand. It lands with a loud clatter and I curse under my breath. That was uncalled for.

"I'm sorry," I muttered as I pull back the sheet. Intent on helping clean up my own mess, I start to get up when a firm hand pushes me back. Sergeant Grmek, the nurse I have just been an ass to, again, is right beside me. "It's okay, sir. Just relax. I'll clean it up." I consider ignoring her and getting up anyway, but the glare she throws me halts me faster than her hand did. She'd make Janet damn proud with that look. I mumble another apology as she pats my shoulder then goes about cleaning up the mess I just made.

The Doc comes in just as Grmek mops up the last of the mush. She sighs and shakes her head. There's no need for questions. She can put two and two together. Besides, I'm only marginally ashamed to admit, this isn't the first time this has happened.

"Sir, I realize the commissary isn't exactly know for its gourmet cuisine, but you need to eat."

"That's the understatement of the year."

She opens her mouth to say something then reconsiders and shuts it. Doc is silent for a moment longer then, "It's been over ten hours since you came home, sir. You need to eat and get some sleep." She rests her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. I must look at least as bad as I feel. "You need to heal."

"I'm _fine_!" I snap and instantly regret it. I'm not fine. I know it. Doc sure as hell knows it. Ba'al's sarcophagus healed the physical damage he's inflicted upon me, but it did nothing for the lack of sleep, food, or water. My skin feels clammy and my head is throbbing. I'm sure my face is pale. My eyes drop, I can't keep her gaze anymore. Guilt eats at me. I shouldn't be acting like this! I should be able to handle this better. It's not like I haven't been through this before. Been there, done that, and told them were they could shove the t-shirt.

"It's not your fault, Colonel. Please, just try to rest." She smoothes my unruly hair back one last time then drops her hand as she smiles and stands.

I sigh at the loss of contact. As close as my team and I are, in some ways Janet knows me so much better then they do. Of course, that isn't by choice on my part. If I had my way, she wouldn't know half of what she does about my medical history. No one should have to experience what I have. Not even second hand.

She's out of my sight as quickly as she entered the infirmary. I hear her moving around as I close my eyes and try to do what she asked.

I can't. No sooner do my eyes slide shut; I see that snakehead bastards face again. Sneering at me. Taking perverse pleasure in the endless pain he inflicted upon me. My eyes fly open wide. Doc's at my side again, her reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's okay. He can't hurt you anymore."

I resist the urge to ask what the fuck she knows about it. This isn't her fault. Not any of it. I refuse to look at her. I don't like what I know she'll see in my eyes. God! This frigging sucks. And it's just the beginning. It's going to get worse, much worse, before it even starts to get better.

Withdrawal sucks. Big time. I can feel the need for it growing inside me. My hands have started to twitch some. Like a junkie in desperate need of his next fix. I hide it well from everyone. Except Doc.

There's very little I can slip past her. She knows me too well.

Her hand reaches out to steady my trembling one. It calms me, until I see what she's brought over with her. Then I jerk it away as if she'd burned me. She reaches out and gently takes it again. I try to pull away again and curse my weakness when I can't.

"Sir, please. You need this."

My voice is firm. "No. No drugs."

Her eyes are gentle and understanding. "No drugs, colonel, your dehydrated and malnourished. You flat out refuse to eat and you've barely drunk anything. You need to get your strength back and this will help." She pauses while I mull over what she's said. "Eventually, you know I will have to sedate you."

She puts a finger to my lips to stall the argument she knows is coming. "You're turn to listen, sir. Daniel was put in that damn thing a lot fewer times than you were and you know how bad his withdrawal was. This is going to be harder on you. For now, just the fluids, but you know I'll have to administer the sedative sooner or later."

I hate it when she's right. Which is most of the time. I contemplate arguing, but decide against it. In a few days, I'll be enough of a handful for her. No need to start early. I sigh and relax. She takes that for what it is. Resigned acceptance.

Doc's very good at what she does. The IV is set up in no time. She starts to walk away to clean up, but I reach out with my newly pin cushioned hand and grasp her wrist. She stops short and looks at me. She says nothing, but I can read the question written plainly on her face.

"I'm fine, Doc." She waits patiently for me to continue. "Stay." My eyes are pleading. I know she can see it.

"I'll be back in a little while."

Damn. Don't make me say it, Doc. I don't know why, but I always find it easier to fall asleep when she's close. Truth is, I'm terrified to even just shut my eyes right now. Not that I'll never admit it aloud. She starts to pull away and I tighten my grip.

"Sir, I have to . . .," she begins.

"Please, _please._" Don't leave me! God, I'm frigging begging here! How pathetic am I? "Don't leave me."

Tears form in her eyes. She blinks them away before they can fall. "Alright, sir. I'll sit with you for a while. Just let me clean this up real quick and get Lieutenant Renik to check on a few things."

I consider begging more and keeping my grip on her, but relent. I'm not that damn far gone.

Yet.

I nod and release her. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she promises. I simply nod again and watch as she cleans up quickly and walks away.

True to her word, she returns exactly ten minutes later. Book in one hand and a glass in the other. I know because I have been watching the clock on the wall. She hands me the glass. "It's just water." I accept it gratefully and drink slowly as she makes herself as comfortable as possible in the hard plastic chair beside my bed. They really need to get some more comfortable chairs down here. Maybe I'll bring it up with Hammond when I see him again.

Settled at last, Doc opens her book and begins to read out loud. Don't think I've ever mentioned it before, but she has a good reading voice. She'd make a great narrator for one of those kid's shows or nature documentaries. I drift off to the sound of her melodic voice.

_TBC_


	2. A Long, Hard Road

**A Long, Hard Road  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/11/07

SPOILERS: Abyss, Meridian

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mild language

* * *

A rather loud commotion draws my attention from what I'm doing. I hear the colonel's angry voice.

"Damn it!" He bellows. "I said I'm _not_ hungry."

Did I say angry? I meant down right pissed.

Then there's a clatter as metal meets the floor. I sigh as I finish up the report I am working on and file it away.

Just as I suspected. Sergeant Pamela Gremk, one of my best nurses, stops him from getting up to help clean up his mess. I consider stepping in to help, but she has things under control. She's one of the _very_ few people who can exert any kind of control over the colonel. Which is why she volunteered to bring him his lunch today.

Finally, he relents. Of course, the look on her face could melt steel. I taught her well. After several minutes, and before the colonel can make anymore of a nuisance of himself, I decide to make my presence known.

"Sir, I realize the commissary isn't exactly known for its gourmet cuisine, but you need to eat."

"That's the understatement of the year."

Oh yeah. Testy as always. Well I can give just as good as I get. He knows that. Our verbal sparing goes on a bit longer. I make sure to keep my voice even, reassuring. This isn't his fault. He needs understanding and patience right now, not anger or a fight. He will need all of his strength to get through this. The road to recovery will be long and hard for him.

Unfortunately, it's one he's painfully familiar with.

He's done the "drugged out of his mind and strapped to a bed" thing before.

Twice.

I know why he won't eat. He gets like that every time he's seriously injured. Or when he's been through a particularly harrowing mental ordeal.

This time, like too many others, it was both.

I'm just waiting for the retching to start.

His eyes divert from mine. I can see his shame. Damn it! I hate seeing him like this. It isn't fair. It isn't right.

I get up and gather some things I'll need. He isn't going to like this, but it can't be helped. He's dehydrated. Not only is he not eating, he isn't drinking very much either. Eventually, whether either of us likes it or not, I'll have to start sedating him as well.

His eyes open upon my return to his beside.

"No." Determination is fierce in his eyes and voice. It only takes a minute to persuade him to let me do this. He knows the drill. He also knows I won't administer any drugs until it's absolutely necessary.

It takes me but a few minutes to set up the IV. His eyes close and he doesn't acknowledge what I'm doing, not until I get up to leave. Then he grips my hand tightly with strength he shouldn't have.

He pleads with me to stay. There are some things I really need to get done, but I can't stand to hear him beg. It happens so very rarely and breaks my heart. This time I relent. I assure him I'll be right back then get Lieutenant Renik to do a few things for me. I grab a book for myself and a glass of water for the colonel.

The colonel falls asleep in less than five minutes, which shows just how exhausted he is, but I continue to read to him for another half hour. I want to make sure he stays asleep. Satisfied he isn't going to wake up again, I stand and stretch my stiff limbs. We _really_ need to get some more comfortable chairs in here. My butt is sore and my back feels stiff.

I check his temperature. It's a little high, but within acceptable levels. I adjust his sheet and IV then go back to my office. My thoughts go back to when we started treating him. I've seen the clothes he was wearing when he returned. My imagination is painting some pretty gruesome pictures. The sad part is, the torture was probably much, much, worse.

His shirt has at least a half dozen holes caused by knives. It's obvious the holes were made bigger by multiple hits. At least a half a dozen more are burn holes most likely caused by some kind of acid. I've got the lab checking on the chemical make up of the residue around the holes. My blood pressure damn near hit the roof when I saw his pants. Particularly, the hole in the crotch area.

Adding an injury report to anyone's medical file is never fun, but adding one to the colonel's makes me cringe more than usual. His is easily four times thinker than any three members of the other SG teams altogether. I hate the fact that my entries have made it so much thicker since I've been stationed here. In the past six years I've added one broken leg, several staff weapon and other types of burns, alien possession of various forms, countless broken ribs, hypothermia, and a few concussions to the ever-thickening file. And that's just the short list.

We will, most likely, never now the full extent of what was done to him this time, but I have a pretty damn good idea. To be perfectly honest. I really don't want to know.

If I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch, Ba'al, I'll kill him. Slowly and in the most painful manner possible.

Screw the Hippocratic oath.

General Hammond is the only one who knows about the pants. I haven't told his team and I have no intention of ever doing so. They don't need to know. I know the colonel will never tell them nor would he want me to.

"Daniel?"

I stop in my tracks as soon as I hear the colonel muttering. He must be dreaming about Daniel's . . . death. God, I miss him. We all do. I think the Colonel was hit the hardest by it, although you'd never have guessed it by looking at him. The colonel hides his true emotions very, very well.

"I just tossed my shoe through you."

_What?_ I guess he started hallucinating that Daniel was with him while he was a prisoner. He mumbles incoherently now as he tosses and turns. I consider starting him on a sedative, but then he stops. I watch him for a few minutes more as adjust his sheets and make sure he hasn't dislodged his IV. Satisfied that he is resting peacefully again, I brush my hand across his forehead one more time then turn to leave.

I don't get far before I hear him croak, "Doc." He's propped himself up on his right elbow. His face is even paler than it was before.

I turn and quickly grab a bedpan, not that there's much to come out, shoving it in front of face just in time. It takes several long, agonizing minutes before the retching stops. Exhausted, the colonel flops back on the bed and covers his eyes with his arm.

If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn I just heard a sob.

I turn my back and get rid of the bedpan, giving him time to compose himself. By the time I return, his arm is back by his side and a little color has come back to his face. A little, but not much. I sit on the edge of his bed and wipe his face and neck with a cool, damp cloth. He gives me a weak but grateful smile.

I really need to get going. I hate to leave him, but I need to check in with Cassie. She loves Jack so much. Aggravating as it is for her that she can't be here with him, she does understand why. That doesn't mean she likes it though. Soon, she will be an important part of his recovery, but she doesn't know that yet. The colonel wouldn't let her see him like this, even if I did allow it.

"Rest." I tell him as I stand to leave.

"Doc." I pause once more as I get to the door. "Thanks."

I turn and smile. "Anytime, sir." Anytime. The road before him will be long and hard, but he won't travel it alone.

_TBC_


	3. A Warrior's Heart

**A Warrior's Heart  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/11/07

SPOILERS: Children Of the Gods, Abyss

WORD COUNT: 1,304

* * *

Doctor Fraiser is checking O'Neill's pulse and temperature as I enter the infirmary. Even though the machines do this for her, she prefers to do it "the old fashioned way". It is one of the many reasons O'Neill admires and trusts her so much. As do I.

"He's still sleeping Teal'c."

I stop as she speaks. She never turned around and I was quiet as I entered, as to not disturb her. How did she know I had come back?

"There's only one person who's ever been able to slip in or out of my infirmary without me knowing, and he's not going anywhere for a while."

Again, I have said nothing aloud and she has yet to turn around, so she could not have seen my reaction. I file the information away to be analyzed at another time as I take a seat beside my friend.

I have no siblings by blood, nor did I ever want any growing up. Yet, O'Neill has become as a brother to me. More so than any blood relation could have been. He has put more faith and trust in me than anyone else. Even Master Bra'tac. Even before he knew anything about me. I learned quickly that to earn O'Neill's trust and respect is a rare gift. One to be treasured.

On rare occasions I find myself wondering if the Jaffa rebellion would have occurred much sooner had O'Neill been born a Jaffa.

He had no reason to believe I would help him that first time we met. I gave no outwards indication that my devotion to my god was anything but absolute. Somehow, I believe he saw past my facade and into my heart. He saw my doubt in what I was doing. Perhaps he saw a kindred soul. A fellow solider who has seen and done too many things he is not proud of.

The Tau'ri have a saying – "The eyes are the windows to the soul." If someone had said this to me before I met this man, I would have thought him a weak-minded fool. O'Neill has changed my perspective on many things since that day.

It saddens me that Major Carter and Jonas Quinn can no longer sit with O'Neill, but I understand why it must be so. Doctor Frasier has allowed me to stay because I have been most effective in helping to calm and restrain O'Neill when he is stuck in the nightmares of his past. As he is now. His face and upper body are covered in a sheen of sweat. He is becoming entangled in his sheet as he tosses and turns. Just as suddenly as his erratic movements start, they stop.

O'Neill's eyes suddenly flutter open. I consider speaking his name or touching his shoulder to see if he will respond then think better of it. It is well known that disturbing O'Neill when he is in this state can have grave consequences. I wait to see if he will look at me first.

His eyes are on the far wall, his mind in the past, seeing what only he can see. Never have I seen him more tense. His voice and his expression are full of anger and fear as he yells in a language I do not understand. I speak to him in the same soothing tones I used with Ry'ac when, as a young boy, he was ill or frightened. O'Neill calms down and looks at me for the first time since this episode began. His eyes then focus on my tattoo. Suddenly, his eyes go wide with fear and his struggles increase again. I have never before felt such strength in any Tau'ri, not even in O'Neill.

My words no longer soothe him. Instead, they only serve to agitate him further. I lose my grip and he strikes, hitting me squarely on my nose. He fights like a man possessed with a strength and veracity his weakened condition should not allow. I stumble from the force of his blow and lose my already precarious grip on him. Blood flows freely from both nostrils. He moves like lightning, knocking me to the ground and pinning me there. He manages to land a few more punches to my face until I finally am able to grasp both wrists firmly. I flip him off of me and manage, with great difficulty, to pin him to the ground. I am both surprised and disheartened as the fight drains from my friend as quickly as it appeared. His body goes limp and he glares at me with an intense look of hatred, fear, despair, and defeat.

Doctor Frasier comes in and quickly injects a needle into his arm. O'Neill glares at me a moment longer then his eyes slide shut. I release my grip on him and assist Doctor Frasier in getting O'Neill back into his bed. As I move to the foot of his bed, Frasier situates him so he is comfortable. She speaks to him in whispered tones as she puts her hand to his forehead.

Then the doctor turns her attention to me. I believe, at times, she may be what the Tau'ri call a telepath.

She answers my question before I even have a chance to ask it.

"No Teal'c, you didn't hurt him. He ripped out his IV, so I'll have to move it to the other hand, but otherwise, he's none the worse for wear." She approaches me. "You should let me take a look at that. It looks broken."

She reaches for my nose, but I gently push her hand away. It is, indeed, broken but she need not concern herself with my injury. "I am fine. My symbiote is already repairing the damage."

She contemplates my response then nods. "You should at least wash up. It'll be several hours before he begins to stir again. I'll be back in a few minutes. I want to set up the new IV. I have no choice. I'm going to have to keep him sedated."

That said, she turns and leaves the room. I take her advice and utilize the facilities to wash the blood from my face. A few minutes later, Doctor Frasier returns with the necessary supplies. She moves with great proficiency and completes her task in mere minutes.

Then she turns to me. "Teal'c, help me move him to one of the private rooms please."

I nod and do as she requests. I am surprised she did not do this sooner. She rarely leaves O'Neill in the infirmary when he is this ill. The infirmary has been quite busy lately. The day after the colonel's return, SG-4 came back with injuries. Although they were relatively minor, they did require much attention from the doctor and her nurses. Yesterday afternoon SG-16 returned under fire. Two of their members are still in the infirmary. Doctor Frasier believes the commander of that team, Major Dancs, may not survive. Perhaps that is why she has delayed this move. It is easier to watch over her patients if they are all in the same room. Plus, two of her nurses called out sick today and that has left her short handed.

It takes only a few minutes to relocate O'Neill. Doctor Fraiser checks his IV and chart. She fusses with his sheet again and checks his temperature.

Difficult as this is for him now, and as hard as it will be to deal with what was done to him, I know O'Neill will persevere. As he has done so many times since I have known him, and before. His soul is battered, weary, and scared, but still strong. He will not stop fighting so long as he has any strength left.

He has a fighting spirit. More than that, he has a warrior's heart.

_TBC_


	4. It's Not Your Fault

**It's Not Your Fault  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/11/07

SPOILERS: Abyss, small one for Need

CONTENT LEVEL: Language

WORD COUNT: 1,999

* * *

As I sit here in my lab and listen to Janet's report, I feel the rage build again.

It's been five days since the colonel came home, stumbling down the ramp. The Alpha site had notified us minutes after the colonel had arrived, that he had made it. We expected him to come through on a gurney with a medical team.

We should have known better.

He came back shaky and looking like he'd been to hell and back and there again. From the state of his clothes and the look on his face, I'd say he'd been through much, much worse than that.

He seemed OK those first two days, a little snippy but nothing out of the ordinary for him, until he'd fallen asleep. He's been having violent nightmares that have him writhing and screaming in agony in his bed. Then he wakes up to hallucinations that are even more violent. None of us are allowed in his room, not even the general. The only exception is Teal'c. He's the only one who can calm the colonel without hurting him. And without Janet having to drug him to the gills.

Okay, so she's already had to drug him several times, but at least with Teal'c there, she's been able to get away with giving him just a mild sedative.

The ban had started yesterday morning. It wasn't one thing that had caused Janet to enforce it, but a series of incidents.

The first incident had occurred the night before last when the colonel had suddenly woken from a seemingly sound sleep, jumped out of bed screaming in a foreign language, and launched himself at Jonas. If Teal'c hadn't been there, I have no doubt the colonel would have snapped Jonas' neck like a twig. The look on Colonel O'Neill's face when he finally calmed down and realized what he almost did was disheartening.

Still being new to the team, Jonas hasn't experienced one of the colonel's episodes like that before, so I know it rattled him badly. He handled it well though, all things considered. I know Jonas doesn't blame the colonel for what happened. To his credit, he came back the next day to sit with him and us, without displaying even the slightest hint of fear. If the colonel remembers the incident later, however, he will not be so easy on himself. Hopefully, the bruises on Jonas' neck will fade away before they see each other again. As they say, out of sight, out of mind.

I hope.

The second was early the next morning. We had all remained by the colonel's side, no one willing to leave him. He had a nightmare. A pretty damn bad one judging by the tossing and turning and half muttered curses. Granted, he was speaking in a foreign language, but it's pretty clear he was cursing.

I never would have believed the colonel could move so fast if I hadn't seen it my self.

Poor Jonas was the target of his assault again. I don't think it was, in any way, intentional on the colonel's part. Jonas just happened to be the closest to him. You know what they say, in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time, however, Jonas was prepared. He threw his arms up defensively and managed to, just barely, deflect the colonel's attack. Teal'c grabbed him and Janet sedated him quickly. Lucky for us she already had the needle ready and close by. After the first time, I guess she wasn't taking any chances.

The sedative didn't last nearly as long as it should have. Not even three hours later the colonel was semi-lucid. His eyes were open, but it wasn't us or the infirmary he saw. I don't think we'll ever know what it was that he did see, but the general was the next unfortunate victim.

He took us all by surprise that time. General Hammond had been sitting next to the colonel, speaking in soft soothing tones like he uses with his granddaughters. Colonel O'Neill was staring straight ahead seeming to not hear a word the general said. Then the general put his hand on the colonel's shoulder. If he hadn't also happened to be standing up at the same time, he'd be in an infirmary bed right beside Colonel O'Neill. I don't think we'll ever find out just how the colonel got hold of that scalpel, or how long he'd had it. The strike was lightning fast and, luckily, only caught the general's shirt. He'd needed a new shirt and, possibly, a new pair of shorts after that.

That had been the last straw.

I feel so damn useless. Just like when this happened to Daniel. Only worse. At least with Daniel we knew approximately how many times he'd been put into the sarcophagus. Not that that really helps all that much. With the colonel, we have no idea and most likely never will. Daniel's withdrawal, while violent and hard on all of us, was tame compared to what the colonel is going through. Daniel didn't have the nightmares Colonel O'Neill does.

I realize that I will never know just what Ba'al did to him. He'll never tell us, nor will Janet or the General. And I'm pretty sure I really don't want to know.

The scary thing is I don't think Teal'c even has an idea of what was done to Colonel O'Neill.

"Sam?" Janet puts a hand on my shoulder. That and her concerned voice break my train of thought.

"Shit," I exclaim as I look at the boiling mess that was my most recent experiment. I mutter a steady stream of curses that would make the colonel proud but would make any nun blush while shoving me towards the nearest confessional, as I quickly shut off the heat and dump the remains of my project into a nearby sink. It was an interesting experiment, but, thankfully, not an important one.

Janet is staring at me, her expression an odd mixture of concern and laughter.

"Sorry, Janet. You were saying."

"I had to give him a very strong sedative last night. Strong enough to knock him out for most of the night. I think I might have to remove Teal'c from the infirmary."

Shocked, I ask, "What? Why?"

"The colonel had a nightmare last night." Okay, nothing new there. Seeing the look on my face, she continues quickly. "He woke up fighting, as he usually does, but instead of being calmed by Teal'c's presence, he reacted even more violently. He actually managed to get the upper hand on Teal'c, briefly, and broke his nose."

I know my eyebrows are doing a stellar expression of Teal'c's as I stare at Janet in stunned silence. I don't know what to say to that.

She continues.

"The worst part is, when Teal'c managed to get the colonel under control . . ." She pauses, lost in her thoughts, and I wait patiently for to continue. "Sam, the look on his face when Teal'c pinned him to the floor, I've never seen him look so . . . defeated. It was so damn heart breaking, Sam!" Janet growls in frustration. "I don't know how else to help him! I have to watch how much sedative I give him. In the past, it wasn't much of a concern because he almost always immediately relaxed at the sound of Teal'c's voice. What am I going to do if I have to remove him from the infirmary as well?"

She answers her own question before I can even open my mouth. "I'll have to restrain him." She says angrily and slams her fist on my lab table. "I really, _really_, don't want to have to do that, Sam, but I don't think I'm going to have a choice. I moved him into one of the private rooms a few hours ago."

Actually, I'm surprised she didn't do it right after the incident with General Hammond. When the colonel is seriously injured, Janet usually puts him in a private room to protect her staff as much as his privacy and dignity.

I swear, if I ever come face to face with Ba'al, I'll cut his fucking nuts off and feed them to him! Then I'll string him up by his thumbs and watch with glee as he slowly bleeds out. The military and the Powers That Be, be damned! Oops. Not very professional, or lady-like there, Sam.

Crap! By the shocked look on Janet's face, I didn't just think that.

The look disappears quickly. "Stand in line," she says grimly. "I've got first dibs at that bastard."

I've never seen that kind of murderous look in Janet's eyes before. I pray I never have to see it again.

Yup, definitely said that out loud. I'm thinking it's probably a good thing the general isn't within earshot. I think that might possibly be considered insubordination. Maybe not, but why take the chance?

We're both silent for a few minutes, each of us lost in our own thoughts and feelings of guilt and rage. He shouldn't have to be dealing with this. I should have figured it out sooner. Hell, I never should have convinced him to become a host to that bastard Kanan. God damn snake. He only did it because I begged him to.

She breaks the silence first and startles me again. "It isn't your fault, Sam."

I glare at her. "Like hell it isn't, Janet! I should have figured it out sooner. I should have found a way to get him out of there. I'm supposed to be the frigging genius here! He only did it because I fucking begged him to."

"And," Janet interrupts, "because he knew General Hammond would order it anyway and he didn't want to have to put the general in that position."

Well, yeah, there's that, but I'm not ready to have my guilt assuaged so easily.

"I know you feel guilty about what has happened to him and your inability to help him right now, but this _wasn't_ your fault. You know the colonel will kick your butt from one end of this base to the other if he finds out you're even thinking that way. Think about it, Sam." She lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder and I can't help but smile.

"Yeah."

"The important thing is that we all be there to help him pick up the pieces when this part is over.

That's when he'll need us the most. Although we both know damn well he will never admit it."

"I know. It's just so damn hard not being able to help him through this now." Not to mention frustrating as all hell to say the least. Janet knows that better than any of us. She can shoo us, or as in the current case, outright ban us from the infirmary, but she has no choice but to stand by and watch as he suffers. As helpless as I feel, I know its worse for her. First, do no harm. For Janet, nothing is worse, or a more flagrant violation of that oath, than doing nothing.

"I have to get back to the infirmary. Meet me at the commissary in two hours for lunch?"

Food is the last thing on my mind right now, but we both need the nourishment, and the distraction, so I nod my agreement.

I start to get another experiment ready, gathering the materials I'll need. My heart just isn't in it though. Half an hour, and three shattered beakers later, I give up and head for the gym. Ever since the colonel staggered home, I've had an overwhelming urge to beat the living crap out of something. I'd better take care of that. Soon.

No matter what happens, or what he says, when he's through the withdrawal, he won't face the next part of the fight alone. His team, his friends, his _family_ will always be here for him no matter what.

Always.

_TBC_


	5. Job Satisfaction

**Job Satisfaction  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 5/9/07

SPOILERS: Abyss

WORD COUNT: 1,631

AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks to Cyn and Cokie for the beta and to Cyn for the title for this part!

* * *

Most of the time, I love really love my job. Oh sure, it's a bit aggravating at times, especially when it requires me to spend long periods of time away from my daughter, but over all I find it very gratifying. 

Finally, five minutes of peace and quiet. I haven't had more than two minutes since the colonel stumbled home almost a week ago. Two SG teams came back with injuries in as many days. Most were minor, but Major Dancs sustained a very serious blow to the head as well a dislocated shoulder and a nasty staff weapon burn to the same shoulder. I am happy to report that the Major, while still unconscious, should make a full recovery. It was touch and go for while, but he holding his own now.

After visiting Sam's lab to fill her in, I had to do my rounds and check on Lieutenant Rictor, who was released to his quarters to rest early this morning. The other injured SG team members were released yesterday evening, and the colonel should be out for several more hours at least. I gave him a heavy sedative just before I went to talk to Sam.

Paper work done, I can just sit here for a few minutes and enjoy my nice hot cup of . . . yuck! Well, it _used_ to be a nice hot cup of coffee. I don't care what anyone says, coffee is _not_ meant to be drank when cold! I tentatively poke at my half eaten donut. Just as I thought, stale. What a waste. Gathering the mess off my desk, I toss the stale pastry into the garbage. The coffee goes down the drain then the cup joins the donut.

I glance at my watch and wince. I can't believe it's been nearly two hours already. I want to check on the colonel one more time before I go have lunch with Sam, so I head over to the room I now have him in.

Teal'c is in his usual position at the foot of Colonel O'Neill's bed. He nods slightly as I enter. "Any change?" I ask as I begin to check the colonel's vitals.

"None, Doctor Fraiser. He has remained quiet and still."

Thank heaven for small favors.

After assuring myself that the colonel's IV is still secure and double checking his medication levels, I brush my hand lightly across his forehead. His fever seems to be going down, which is a good thing, but I'm under no allusion that he's getting better. To the contrary, I know the worst is yet to come.

I turn my attention back to Teal'c. "I'm going to have lunch with Sam. Lieutenant Russo and Sergeant Grmek are here if you or the colonel need anything." He nods again.

"Thank you."

I turn back to the colonel one last time.

Without warning, the colonel's eyes fly open. His arms and legs fly out so he's in a spread eagle position, then he begins to scream.

"I don't know anything! God damn it, you snake-head bastard, I told you I don't know _anything_!"

I know better than to approach the colonel when he's in this state, so I take a step back as Teal'c approaches him. He doesn't touch O'Neill, he also knows better than that, just speaks to him in soothing tones I'd never expected a man his size capable of. Despite his appearance, Teal'c can be quite gentle when needs be.

He seems to calm down then, just like before, but catches sight of Teal'c's tattoo and flies into a berserker rage. This time, Teal'c can't control him. In the time it takes me to blink the colonel has Teal'c pinned to the floor and is beating him about the face with closed fists. Unlike last time, Teal'c cannot get the upper hand or dislodge the enraged colonel.

With lightning speed, and a move that would make any football or wrestling coach proud, an SF flies into the room and tackles the colonel to the ground then pins him down. The colonel continues to fight and is about to overpower the SF when two more come into the room. The colonel fights hard for a few seconds then sags in defeat. He has that same defeated look in his eyes that haunts me every time I close my own eyes.

Between the four of them, the SF's and Teal'c manage to get the colonel back into his bed without inflicting any harm upon him. By the time Teal'c gently guides the colonel's head back to his pillow, he is unconscious again. I go to the corner of the room where I have some supplies, pick up a few things, and then go back over to his bed.

Just as I thought, he injured his hand when he launched himself at Teal'c. I remove the broken needle from the back of his hand then clean and bandage the wound. That done I move around to his left side and setup a new IV in that hand. With great regret, I strap his arms and legs into the restraints.

Teal'c says nothing; we both knew this was going to be necessary sooner or later. I should have done it sooner. I wouldn't have had to redo the IV and Teal'c wouldn't be standing beside me with his second bloody nose in as many days. I look up at him, and wow, he has a nice shiny black eye to go with the busted nose.

I pray the colonel doesn't remember any of this when he finally gets through the withdrawal. He will never forgive himself for attacking his friend like that, even though it isn't his fault.

I turn my attention back to Teal'c, who has remained quiet while I worked. "I'm sorry, Teal'c, but you can't stay with him anymore." I raise a hand and silence his protest before he can begin it. "I know you want to help him, but right now your presence here is only agitating him further." He remains steadfast and begins to speak. "You saw how he reacted when he saw your tattoo. Please, Teal'c. For his sake, go." For a minute, I'm afraid he's going to press the issue. Finally, he relents. With a regal bow, he turns and leaves the room.

I sigh and turn back to the colonel. After making a few adjustments to his IV and fixing his sheet, I turn and leave.

Grmek is about to enter the room just as I exit. I tell her where I'm going and how long I'll be, then give her some quick instructions. The most important being that the colonel is not to be left alone for any reason, then head for the commissary.

Just the thought of food makes my stomach grumble and I pick up the pace. I hadn't realized just how hungry I am. Sam is waiting for me as I enter. She waves as our eyes meet. I wave back then head for the food line. Mmmm, coffee. Commissary coffee is closer to sludge than actual coffee, but it's better than nothing. With enough sugar and cream, it's almost passable. A bottle of water joins the coffee on my tray followed by a plate and silverware. I pass what looks like it's supposed to be Salisbury steak. The roast looks equally unappetizing; Instead, I opt for an apple, a generous helping of meatloaf, and a baked potato, french cut string beans, and a rather large slice of chocolate cake. I smile as I remember the colonel's fondness for that particular desert.

My tray now sufficiently full, I head over to where Sam is playing with the remains of her lunch. "Hi."

"Hi," I reply as I sit across from her.

We sit in silence as we eat. Well, while I eat. Twenty minutes later, Sam is still playing with her now very cold food. I place my cake in front of me and push the empty tray to the side.

"Why were you late?"

My fork stops mid way to my mouth. I stare at her a moment, then eat my bite of cake. She never averts her eyes. And she won't until she gets an answer. I really didn't want to tell her, but she'll know if I'm lying. I was never very good at it and she knows it. That's why I rarely ever play poker.

"The colonel had another episode just before I came down." I'm quite prepared to leave it at that. Sam isn't. Damn. I take another bite of cake before putting down my fork and pushing the plate away. I've lost my appetite now.

"I had to put the restraints on and remove Teal'c from his room." I expect her to say something, anything, but she remains silent. Her expression is one of resigned acceptance. We all knew this was coming. It was just a matter of time. The only surprising part is the colonel's reaction to Teal'c. He's been captured and tortured by Jaffa before. What the hell did Ba'al's Jaffa do to him to make him react that violently to Teal'c?

"How much longer do you think this will take?" Startled from my thoughts, I look up.

"I honestly don't know, Sam. I wish I could give you a definite day, but I just can't."

She nods and we both sit in silence for a few minutes. Simultaneously, we stand and pick up our trays. We both have work to do.

"Keep me updated." She says.

I merely nod. She knows I will.

Sam heads off to her lab as I head to the general's office. He'll want to know what happened. He won't be pleased either.

Sometimes, I really, _really_ hate my job.

_TBC_


	6. An Unexpected Visitor

An Unexpected Visitor 

By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 5/10/07

WORD COUNT: 2,154

AUTHORS NOTE: I really hadn't planned to do a Daniel POV, but he insisted he be allowed to "visit" Jack. He was really rather pushy about it. Well . . . it was more like a pleading, _annoying_, whine! My muse threatened to strike if I didn't shut Danny Boy up, so I finally relented. And here we go . . .

* * *

I shouldn't be here. That's what she'll say if she finds out.

I don't care.

She'll say that I need to let go of my old life and move on.

I can't. I _won't_.

He's my best friend. I need to be here for him, even he if doesn't realize it's me. Maybe, if I don't stay long, she won't know I've been here. After all, she's not omnipotent.

Well, I'm pretty sure she's not. Like I said, I don't care. I won't abandon Jack when he needs me. He's always been there for me when I needed him. He stayed with me the whole time when I went through sarcophagus withdrawal, all through the vomiting and retching, through the cursing and the self-doubt, and the begging. God, did I beg for more of it, anything to end the pain. Jack never said much through the whole ordeal, but he was a strong physical presence. All pretence of male pride put aside, he was there to hold me when I needed to feel the touch of another human being. He was there to rub my back through the retching and vomiting. He let me know that I wasn't alone.

I don't remember all of it, but I remember a good deal. Janet says that Jack is the only one I would let get close to me. I kinda feel bad that I excluded Sam and Teal'c even after Janet let me go home, but they'd said they understood. I know they meant it.

Jack's not much of a talker (and isn't _that_ the understatement of the century), and I wasn't really comfortable with McKenzie, so I spent quite a bit of time talking to Sam and, to a lesser extent, Teal'c. Teal'c's not much of a talker either, but he doesn't clam up like Jack does.

Oh yeah, and the guilt. Don't forget the guilt. Christ! I still can't believe I almost shot Jack! It's a good thing I was not that good of a shot back then. I'm not sure when I became "warrior archeologist", it happened gradually over the years, but that's because of Jack too. Sam and Teal'c also helped me a lot in that regard. But it was mostly Jack.

He insisted I learn how to shoot properly. He taught me about jungle tactics and stealth, and he did it with an amazing amount of patience and understanding. Unless it had to do with people or cultures that had existed thousands of years ago, I'm a very poor student. Jack just kept pushing. Any one else would have given up on me in the first week. Most wouldn't have even bothered trying. He saw something in me that no one else did. I wouldn't say that I'm proud of what I had to become in order to stay on the team, but it was necessary. And I am proud of Jack for taking up the challenge and not giving up on me.

He really surprised me at times. For about the first year-and-a-half, they had me out of the firing range, the paintball course, the obstacle course, or the confidence course at least once a month, when we had the time. There were several times when Sam and Teal'c looked like they wanted to strangle me. Or worse. But Jack never once raised his voice. Never got angry or upset or tried to humiliate me. He remained patient and calm at all times.

I think he had an ulterior motive to those training sessions. He always made out that they were for my benefit alone, but they forged an unbreakable bond of friendship between the four of us and taught us how to function as a team. I swear there were times we could almost read each other's minds.

He also worked on hand-to-hand combat with me a little, but he mostly let Teal'c and Sam deal with that part of it. Not that Jack isn't damn good at it, but I think that was his way of making sure Sam and Teal'c felt included. Besides, he'd told me once, sometimes a woman really could teach a man a thing or two about self-defense. I think he was just really, really impressed with her fight against Turghan on Simarka. And not just because she was a woman going against a bigger opponent, who just happened to be a man.

I don't know what's worse, watching what Ba'al did to him at the fortress, or watching what the withdrawal is doing to him now. He was pale and a little thinner than usual when he gated home, but now he looks like death warmed over. And I still can't do anything to help him. I feel so damn useless. He's so out of it right now, he doesn't even realize that I'm here.

I've been here for several hours and have tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he has yet to even look at me. I know he heard me because he looked in my direction when I spoke to him, but I know it wasn't my voice he heard and wasn't me he saw. He just mutters incoherently or screams in a foreign language.

I've known he speaks Arabic for years now, I've heard him muttering it when he's been sick or injured before and had nightmares. And once or twice when he wasn't confined to the infirmary. I've wondered, at those times, what could possibly have triggered the nightmare, especially when the mission had been relatively routine and boring (boring to Jack, anyway). But he never told me he speaks Spanish and Chinese. I wonder how many others he speaks?

He's a hell of a lot smarter than he lets on. But then, Sam, Teal'c, and I have suspected that to be true for a long time now. I have to admit; he does the "dumb colonel" act very, _very_ well. As Sam explained to me once shortly after SG-1 was formed, you have to have a bachelor's degree to become an officer. Still, I never would have guessed that he knew another language other than Arabic.

The worst part of this is that he has become so violent that Janet has had to put the restraints on him. If there's anything Jack hates more than being injured or sick, it's being restrained. Unfortunately, it is necessary now. He was having a nightmare again about two hours ago. Teal'c tried to restrain him. He seemed to be calming Jack down, until Jack actually looked at him. He stared at Teal'c's tattoo for a minute then went totally ballistic. I still can't believe he actually broke Teal'c's nose (apparently for the second time) and gave him a black eye! It took Teal'c and three SF's to finally hold him still (sorta) long enough for Janet to get the restraints on him.

I tried to help him, to talk to him. But, just like when I first got here, it wasn't me he saw.

I can't believe Janet actually had to remove Teal'c from the room. I should have seen it coming. I know what Ba'al's Jaffa did to him. I saw what he did to the Jaffa in the corridor.

He's been sleeping quietly since then. Janet pumped him up with enough sedatives to knock him out for several hours at least. Or so she hopes.

I sit here quietly and just watch him sleep for about half an hour. He's getting restless again now. Tossing his head a bit and lashing out at enemies only he can see.

I want to help him, but I don't know how.

He mumbles something completely incoherent then goes quiet. After a minute, he's still again.

So I continue to sit quietly, watching him sleep and thinking.

"You should not be here, Daniel. You know the rules."

I'm so lost in my own thoughts I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Oma's voice.

"I promised I'd stay with him."

"Yes," she agrees, "you did. But he is home now, safe, with people who can give him the care he needs. There is nothing you can do for him now. Your voice does not sooth him. When he looks at you, it is not your face he sees. It is time to go, Daniel."

I know she's right. There's nothing I can do for him right now. I don't care what she, or the Others, think or say, I will be back. He's my friend.

These people are my friends. I can't, I _won't_, stay away.

"Just give me a few more minutes." I'm not pleading. Not really.

She nods then is gone.

I know I'm going to get an earful about this whole thing eventually. I've been avoiding Oma like the plague since I learned about what was happening to Jack. I didn't really interfere. I didn't stop Ba'al from hurting him. Didn't stop him from burning my best friend to death with acid. Didn't stop him from hurling those damn knives at him again, and again, and again, or from literally dropping him in a sarcophagus after each "session" to revive him.

Technically, I didn't interfere with Jonas, Sam, or Teal'c either. I didn't help them, didn't actually say a word to them. I just . . . pointed them in the right direction.

I didn't see very much of what was done to Jack, didn't stick around to watch. From what I did see though, I have some very nasty images floating around in my mind. Looking at his clothes makes it very clear what he went through at the hands of that bastard.

Despite that, I couldn't do what Jack asked. I was already severely bending the rules just by being there and talking to him. Allowing him to see me. I couldn't help him escape. They would have stopped me. I know it. If They didn't, Oma would have just to cover her own butt. After all, she's the one who helped me ascend.

I sure as hell would never do what Jack wanted me to do after a few rounds of torture then death. How could I possibly kill my best friend? Some people may consider me to be weak because of that. They'd say I did have the guts to "pull the trigger" so to speak. I don't give a damn what they think. It would have been murder. I couldn't do it.

God damn him for even asking or for putting me in that position!

Damn Ba'al for hurting Jack so badly that he'd actually beg for death. Mister "There's always another way."

He'll be pissed as all hell with me when he wakes up. I doubt he'll remember that I was with him here at the base, but I know, eventually, he'll remember that I was there with him at Ba'al's fortress. He'll probably understand and forgive me for not helping him escape. After he's had time to cool off. But I doubt he'll ever forgive me for letting him keep waking up in a sarcophagus, for not letting him stay dead.

I don't care. He's alive and he _will_ be okay. That's all that matters to me. So what if he's pissed about the how and why of it? I. Don't. Care.

Why wouldn't that stubborn bastard let me help him ascend? I don't care what anyone thinks about what he's done in the past. He, more than anyone, even myself, deserves to ascend. He's has so much darkness in his soul that he can never get rid of. I know that, but there is so much light there as well. He is not the heartless killer he tries to portray himself as. Those of us, who really know him, know that. He thinks he deserves all the crap life has thrown at him over the years. All of the heartache and pain. All he can see is all of the horrible things he's been forced to do in the name of God and Country. He can't see any of the good. But that's just the way he is.

And I have my answer. That's why he wouldn't let me help him. He doesn't think he deserves the opportunity. Doesn't think he's worthy.

He's wrong. So very wrong.

Besides, even if he did accept it, he'd have been kicked out in about two hours flat. Jack is a man of action. He can't sit there and just watch all of the injustice, all pain and suffering inflicted upon people throughout the universe. He'd do everything in his power to kill the Goa'uld. And the Other's _would_ have stopped him.

Even keeping all of that in mind, I did the right thing.

I know I did the right thing.

Didn't I?

Didn't I?

_TBC_


	7. The Burden of Command

The Burden of Command

By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 6/2/07

WORD COUNT: 1,145

* * *

I feel a little guilty. This is the first time I've been down to see Colonel O'Neill since the attack. As commander of this facility, I can't just drop everything and come running down here whenever I feel like it. I have responsibilities. What I _want_ is irrelevant.

I can't believe it's been a week. Technically, I'm not visiting him now. Doctor Fraiser still won't let anyone other than herself and a select few nurses into the room with him. Instead, I'm sitting at said doctor's desk watching Jack on the monitor connected to the video camera in his room.

It's been hard, not being able to drop in and see him this past week, but the base has been pretty busy. This, though, this is even harder. When I first met Colonel Jack O'Neill, retired, as he was quick to point out, my feelings were mixed. He was so damn cocky and self-assured I wanted to knock him down a peg or two. There was just something about him though. Something special. For someone who had lost everything, he was so passionate about the people of Abydos. He made me believe that sending another nuke was the wrong thing to do when I had, just a few minutes before, been so thoroughly convinced it was right. I put my trust in him at that moment, I have been doing it ever since, and I have never once regretted it. In the past six years (aggravating though he can be), Jack O'Neill has gone far beyond a trusted, loyal, and respected officer, to one of the best friends I have ever had.

The colonel is never really still, not even when he's unconscious, but he rarely ever thrashes around wildly like he has been since the hallucinations and nightmares started. The restraints are strained to the point where they look like they'll snap any minute now. Stuck in the throws of yet another nightmare, he's fighting enemies only he can see. Whether this nightmare is of what Ba'al has done to him, or of something from his past, I'll never know. I don't really think I want to either.

The good doctor has been keeping me up to speed on the colonel's condition as much as she can. I'm not the only one who's been busy. Physically, he came back with barely a mark on him. He had a few cuts and bruises on his knuckles, arms, and upper body, but they were all minor. The withdrawal has been hell on him, but Doctor Fraiser expects him to make a full recovery.

Physically.

Mentally, now that's another story. He's in for half-a-dozen counseling sessions with MacKenzie. At least.

I feel sorry for MacKenzie.

Everybody's playing the blame game right now, especially the members of SG-1, and it's themselves they're blaming. They all feel responsible, even Jonas. Ayiana cured him then was too weak to cure the colonel. He thinks she should have helped Jack first. If I know O'Neill, he told her to heal Jonas first. That's just the way Jack is. His team comes first. I think Jonas has begun to grow on him, just a little bit, these past few months.

Besides, his team always comes first despite his personal feelings for any one individual. Major Carter feels responsible because she pressured Jack into accepting the symbiote. He did say no at first and only seemed to give in when she'd begged. He would have done it anyway, no matter who had asked, if for no other reason then to not leave his team behind. Then there's Teal'c. I think he feels guilty for leaving Jack alone with the Tok'ra.

The fact is though; the fault lies with one man. Well, okay, two. The sadistic bastard who did this to him, and me. O'Neill may have agreed to the blending, but I let it happen. I let the Tok'ra take him. I could have stopped it. I should have insisted the blending occur here. That way, at least, I could have monitored the situation. The Tok'ra could have had their privacy to access Kanan's knowledge and I could have kept an eye on Jack.

Coulda, shoulda, woulda, but didn't.

I think there's another reason why Jack made the decision to accept the symbiote. He knew, even if he'd said no, I would have ordered it anyway. He's to damn valuable. We need him. With his experience and leadership ability, I can't afford to lose him. He didn't want to burden me with that kind of decision, so he made it on his own.

Even if I could change the past, I wouldn't. Not all of it. I wouldn't have stopped the blending. The Tok'ra would never have agreed to stay here to do the blending, but I would have allowed Teal'c to stay with them. O'Neill is too important to this program, to the planet, and to his team. No one else could have taken three of the most unlikely people and made them into a formidable front line team. No one else could have taken three total strangers and made them a _family_.

I know Jack would understand why I haven't been down to see him. Even on a "quiet" day, I'm usually up to my eyeballs in paper work. There hasn't been a quiet day since the colonel stumbled back through that gate over a week ago. If he was even coherent enough to know what was going on around him that is.

The whole base is feeling this. Even those who don't particularly like him, respect the colonel immensely.

I swear, if I ever get my hands on Ba'al, I'll kill him.

Slowly.

Same thing goes for that cocky ass Tok'ra, Thoran. I still can't believe he had the nerve to try to blame this on Jack. Like there's anything Jack would have been able to do to stop Kanan once the symbiote had made up its mind.

Jack begins to struggle again. I turn up the volume on the monitor and immediately regret it as Jack lets out with a soul-shattering scream. Then he's deathly silent. A few seconds later, he lets out with another scream.

Then begins the cursing.

"You _sonofabitch_! How many fucking times do I have to tell you I don't know a God damn thing before you get it through your thick skull. I. Don't. Know. ANYTHING!"

Then he's just screaming again and I have to turn the volume off.

They say "what ever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger". In Jack's case, that's always been the truth. He has the uncanny ability to bounce back from some of the worst physical and mental abuse the universe can throw at him. Things that _no one_ should ever have to go through.

For all our sakes, I pray that goes for this experience as well.

_TBC_


	8. Soul Mates

**"Soul Mates"  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/2/07

WORD COUNT: 2172

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks to my beta readers, Cokie and Cyn. Also, thanks to Cokie for the title.

* * *

He's screaming again. God, I hate it when he screams. Especially when it's like that. The blood-curdling scream of a person whose very soul is being ripped apart. I mean - I hate it when any of the men or women under my care scream in pain, but somehow it's just so much harder to take when it's him.

After a minute, he settles down again. I check his vitals and, satisfied with what I see, go back to my chair and pick up the book I was reading. After a few minutes, I give up trying to get back into it and just watch the colonel sleep.

I've only been stationed here at the mountain for about a year and-a-half, but I've tended more injuries and sicknesses in that time than in the twelve years I've been an Air Force nurse. And that's not including the alien possessions.

I never thought, in a million years, I'd hear myself say _that_.

In my time here I've seen Colonel O'Neill through some tough times. Since I've been here, he was attacked by some weird firefly type bugs (which was about three days after I started), had a concussion, has been shot by a gun twice (in one incident), stabbed with a knife twice, contracted some form of alien flu, zatted God only knows how many times, burned with a Goa'uld "pain stick" twice, had one of those hand device thingies used on him at least three times (though thankfully never anywhere on his head; I've seen what those things can do to a human brain and it ain't pretty), a partially torn ligament in the right knee, contracted an unidentified alien virus, was tortured with acids and knives then killed and revived with a sarcophagus more times than we will ever know (or care to know).

And that's just the major ones. That's not including the minor cuts, scraps, and bruises that all SG team members incur on missions.

Now he has to deal with the effects of the withdrawal from his repeated exposure to the sarcophagus.

Right from the beginning, he reminded me very much of my husband, Scott. Both were veterans of the Gulf War. Both served in Special Ops units. I've seen in the colonel, in those rare unguarded moments, the same haunted look. Stubborn as all hell and refusing to admit they're sick or in pain until it becomes too bad to hide.

I think that's part of the reason we hit it off so well. Like Doctor Fraiser, I didn't take any of the colonel's crap. He couldn't sweet talk, cajole, or pull a guilt trip on me like he could most of the other nurses. Even the male ones. After eleven years of dealing with Scott, and ten years of being a mother, I was ready for all of the colonel's tricks, and immune to the pleading, puppy dog looks. I was firm when he begged and pleaded, and I let it roll like water off a duck's back when he cursed and hollered and bitched at me. I could also see right through the "who me?" innocent act. I think he respected that.

Oh, and don't forget his child-like antics. Sometimes I swear he is worse than Ryan, Aidan, and Grady together. On a sugar high.

On the other hand, I also used to sneak him extra helpings of Jell-o, pudding, or chocolate cake. On a few occasions, if he'd been particularly well behaved, I'd bring him a piece of my homemade meatloaf.

He's even invited my children and me to his home a few times when he's thrown big barbeques. My children have become quiet fond of him and inquire about him often. He went on a Boy Scout father/son fishing trip with my oldest son, Ryan, this past summer, which Ryan talks about often. When my seven year-old daughter, Aidan, had suddenly burst into tears for no apparent reason at the last barbeque, it was Colonel O'Neill who was finally able to calm her down enough to find out what had happened. Though it had turned out to be something silly and hardly worth crying over, he never treated it that way. He pulled her into his arms and wiped away her tears, reassuring her in soft, soothing tones.

He was here for me when my middle son, Connor, died at the tender age of five. He was diagnosed with Ataxia Telangiectasia, an extremely rare, degenerative disease, at the age of two. Shortly after his fifth birthday he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma. My husband had died in a car accident two years before, which was just six months after the birth of our youngest son, Grady. Colonel O'Neill gave me a shoulder to cry on. Although the circumstances were very different, he'd lost a son as well. He knew what I was going through. He helped me deal with the grief and the loss.

Colonel O'Neill had found me crying in a supply closet one day about two weeks after Connor had died. He had heard me crying as he'd walked past, and came in to find out what was going on. I'd been crying so hard I couldn't speak if I'd wanted to. He knew why I was crying. He and the rest of SG-1 had been at the funeral. With no thought to regulations or what it might look like if someone else walked in, he pulled me into a tight embrace and held me until the sobs stopped. He had given a rueful look at his now wet and snotty dress uniform shirt, but said nothing as he pulled a clean hanky from one of his pockets and handed it to me.

I apologized profusely for the shirt; he brushed it off with a smile and a joke. I still don't know why he was wearing his dress uniform that day. He never told me and I didn't ask. It just didn't seem that important. He'd laughed and told me to keep it when I tried to hand the sopping wet hanky back. I blushed and stuck it in my back pocket. He listened patiently and held me when I needed it, as I told him how much I missed Connor. I'd heard rumors that he'd had a son who died. When I asked, he told me about the circumstances surrounding (Janet had told me shortly after I'd started here that the colonel had lost a son but wouldn't say more than that; There was also mention of the mandatory psyche evals after Charlie died, in his file) Charlie's death with pain-filled eyes.

Unlike the colonel, I still have two sons and a daughter. They'll never replace Connor, but it helps to have them.

You may be wondering why my children all have Gaelic names when my husband's last name is definitely not Irish and he had dark brown hair. The fact is, both of us are at least half Irish. Scott's mother was Irish. His father had some Irish in him as well. My father and mother were both half Irish. My husband never really was sure what nationality his surname is. He thought it might be French. You can really see the Irish in my children, especially Grady. Right down to his red hair and freckles.

Besides, we just really loved the names.

I think he's getting over the worst of the withdrawal. He doesn't scream or thrash against the restraints nearly as much as he did even a few days ago. He's sleeping better too. Doctor Fraiser says she might be able to start reducing the sedatives he's on in another day or two.

As hard as the withdrawal has been on him, it's worse for those who care about him. He is so out of it right now, it's highly unlikely he will remember any of what's happened since the worst of it started. Those of us who care about him, however, have been forced to sit idly by and do nothing but watch him fight the demons of his past. I imagine it's even worse for Major Carter, Jonas, and Teal'c, because they aren't even allowed to be in his room. At least Doctor Fraiser and I can go in and sit with him and talk to him.

For Colonel O'Neill, the hardest part is yet to come. Dealing with the after effects of the withdrawal and what Ba'al did to him.

I've seen parts of his file, only what Doctor Fraiser has deemed necessary for me to treat him and even then, only with the Colonel's permission, so I know some of what he went through even before joining the SGC. I don't have high enough clearance to know it all, but I've seen enough. I'm one of the _very_ few people he trusts enough to let me see what I have. I guess you could say I've become his personal nurse when his injuries are serious enough to warrant putting him in a private room.

He trusts me that much.

I don't stare when something embarrassing happens. Depending on what it is, I turn my head and pretend I don't see until he's ready for my help. I never speak of what happens to anyone, except, of course, Doctor Fraiser. And that's only if it's really necessary. I don't make a big deal about it when he urinates or vomits on himself. I simply clean it, and him, up and go on like it never happened. I don't ask him about the nightmares that bring back the horrors of his past. On the rare occasion when he speaks about what has happened to him, I listen and offer encouragement and support.

I would never do anything to violate that trust.

Sometimes, he talks about Charlie. Never, since that day in the supply closet, about his death. No, when he does talk about Charlie, it's about happy times. He talks about Charlie's love of baseball and the Cubbies. About his little boy's dreams of playing for the Cubs, then becoming an Air Force Aviator like his daddy used to be. He talks about how badly Charlie wanted a dog. It didn't even have to be a puppy he just wanted a dog. Charlie didn't know it, but they were going to take him to a local chapter of the German Shepherd rescue on his tenth birthday to pick out a dog. Charlie died a month before that was to happen.

Talks about Charlie are few and far between, but I enjoy them. During them, I see a genuine, _happy_, smile on his face. Occasionally, he even talks about Sara. I wonder if he even realizes how much he misses her. He is still in love with her. I can see it in his eyes and see it on his face.

Usually when we talk it's about general goings on around the base or what strange things the other SG teams will bring back with them. We take great pleasure in teasing the other members of his team. Major Carter for her obsession with her "doohickeys" as the colonel calls them, Jonas for his obsession with food and the weather channel, and Teal'c because, for all he has learned, there is still so much he doesn't know about American catch phrases and superstitions, and Earth things in general. Before he ascended, poor Doctor Jackson took the brunt of our teasing. For the most part, he was amazingly good-natured about it.

Colonel O'Neill doesn't talk about Doctor Jackson anymore. None of them do. That ordeal was hard on all of them, but I think it was worse for the colonel. I wasn't here at all the week that it happened, Grady was sick and I had to stay home with him, but I heard about it when I came back. Something happened that he isn't telling me about.

The colonel begins to toss and turn again. He's having another nightmare. This time it's about one of the times he was captured and tortured while on a mission here on Earth. He must have been in or around Germany. He's muttering in German. My German is pretty good, but I can't make out very much of what he's saying. Which is probably a blessing. From what I _can_ make out, what they did to him was not pleasant. My God, how can people be so cruel? How can they take so much pleasure in hurting other human beings?

The thing is though, as horrible as what the people in the past have done to him is, it's nothing compared to what that slimy snakehead bastard did. It will take a long time for him to get past this, but he won't do it alone. He'll have his teammates, Doctor Fraiser, and General Hammond to help him through the rough times ahead. I'll be there for him as well. Just like I have in the past.

Just like he has been here for me when I needed him.

_TBC_


	9. The Kinsey Report

**The Kinsey Report  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/20/2007

SPOILERS: Minor ones for too many episodes to list.

WORD COUNT: 1,903

DEDICATION: For cyn because she she wanted one from the point of view of "Someone who's not exactly a 'friend' of Jack."

AUTHORS NOTE: The views expressed in this fic are of one, Senator Robert Kinsey, not me or my muse, so hurt him and not us!!! Thanks go to my beta, Cyn.

* * *

I can't believe that arrogant son of a bitch managed to get himself out of trouble again. When I'd heard that O'Neill had managed to get himself captured by that Goa'uld, I almost threw a party. I thought for sure I was finally rid of that meddling bastard. I should have known better. He's been a pain in my ass since this program started. With all the times he could have gotten himself killed, but managed to avoid it somehow (like the time he narrowly avoided freezing to death- O'Neill as a human Popsicle, now _there's_ a nice dream), I thought for sure he would accomplish the task this time. Even when he did manage to get himself killed previously, one of his friends always found a way to bring him back.

He has more lives than a damn cat.

That goes for the rest of SG-1 as well. I don't worry too much about them because if I can just get rid of O'Neill, it will be much easier to rid myself, and the SGC, of them. Hammond needs to go too, but he'll be easy enough to get rid of, once O'Neill is gone. He would have been out already if not for O'Neill sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong. Again.

O'Neill is the cancer infecting the SGC and I fully intend to cut him out so I can get competent people in there. People who understand the importance of obtaining technology we can use against the Goa'uld, not to mention our enemies here on this planet, by any means necessary. "Morals" be damned. This is a war, for God's sake!

The people I bring in will share my point of view on this matter. At the very least, they understand how detrimental it can be to their careers, and freedom, to go against a very powerful US senator.

O'Neill has spoiled way to many deals that could have been very useful, and profitable, to the United States. So many valuable resources and weapons have been lost because of his meddling.

I have put together quite an extensive report over the years documenting O'Neill's incompetence, failures, and shortcomings.

TECHNOLOGY/INFORMATION LOST

- It started with the alien traitor, Teal'c. We could have learned a lot from experimenting on that Goa'uld he carries in his gut. Not to mention what we could have learned from interrogating the alien himself.

- O'Neill and his team helped the Tollans escape and hid behind the archeologist to avoid a Court Marshal. The Tollan technology was the most advanced we'd seen up to that time.

- The trinium from that Indian planet could have been extremely valuable. Tribal rights my rear end. They weren't doing anything important with it anyway. We should have went in with a strike force and taken it. By force if they tried to stop us!

- There's the naquadah we could have gotten from the planet with the Goa'uld imposter.

- That orb could have been a very powerful weapon. So what if it pinned O'Neill to the Gateroom wall like a deranged, oversized, butterfly in a display. We could have found a way to contain and use it. The incident never would have happened if it had been transferred to Area 51 right away, as it should have been.

- We could have learned a lot experimenting on the alien when he was bitten by that alien bug and started to transform. O'Neill ruined yet another excellent opportunity.

- The weather control device the NID team brought back was invaluable! I can only imagine what could have been accomplished with it in the proper hands. Rain in time of drought, warm temperatures when freezing ones could have destroyed crops, bringing down a tornado or hurricane on an enemy, and so many other applications.

- Who knows what we could have learned from the Orbanians methods if O'Neill hadn't interfered. Then he has the _gall_ to take down my operation (not that anyone can prove I headed it, Maybourne was the perfect patsy) and ruin our best chance of obtaining alien technology and saving ourselves! If the Tollan and Asgard were truly our friends as O'Neill proclaims them to be, they would have shared their technology with us freely and we wouldn't have had to use other methods to obtain them.

- And let's not forget the deal with the Eurondans- what we could have done with that technology! So what if Alar was a Hitler wanna be? It's not like we would have let him see the outside of a cell anyway.

- Then there's all the technology we lost when O'Neill blew the deal with Administrator Calder and his people. He was also, although indirectly, responsible for us losing a very powerful weapon by letting Major Carter and that ascended (or whatever they call it) guy interfere.

- He blew the deal with the Aschen big time, too, and got a US Congressman killed in the process. He never provided any proof of what he _claims_ they planed to do.

And the list just goes on and on.

TIMES HE HAS ENDANGERED THE PLANET

Everyone raves about all the times he _supposedly_ saved the planet, but they so easily forget all the times he endangered it.

- Like bringing the alien's brat here. That capsule he had in his mouth could have killed us all!

- Then there was the alien girl with the bomb in her chest.

- The time he almost got the whole planet sucked into a black hole.

- Don't forget those metal bug things that damn near over ran the planet, three times, because of him.

- There's also the fact that he is the primary reason Earth is back on the Goa'ulds' radar. If not for him, they never would have come back here. Apophis never would have sent his fleet here and they wouldn't have sent that asteroid at us. And, most recently, the attack by Anubis.

That list is long as well.

He's insubordinate, aggravating, self-important, annoying, sarcastic, has a complete disrespect for authority, and is about one of the most ignorant people I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Honestly, I don't know how he ever made the rank of colonel. Or how he made officer at all for that matter.

After the amount of times he disobeyed direct orders, he should be in Leavenworth right now, not leading a front line team and being Hammond's right-hand man.

COMPROMISED/INFLUENCED/POSSESSED BY ALIENS/ALIEN TECHNOLOGY

This list is long, too -

- Starting with him not realizing one of his men, Major Kawalsky, was infected by a Goa'uld, which was another lost opportunity to study one of them. (See also PERSONNEL LOST)

- Next was that disease that turned everyone into cavemen.

- Then he got himself turned into a Jaffa by Hathor. Not to mention the fact that the entire base and all of the males within it were compromised. It was only thanks to the base's Chief Medical Officer and the other females on the base that she was stopped.

- There was Major Carter getting herself taken over by a Tok'ra (which they thought was a Goa'uld at the time).

- There was the time he, and this really shows his lack of intelligence, stuck his head into some alien device and had all their knowledge dumped into his brain.

- He was also infested with a Goa'uld.

- That alien that put that device in their brains making them susceptible to its suggestions compromised the whole team.

- There were those armband things that, _supposedly_, caused O'Neill, the Major, and Doctor Jackson to disobey orders.

- It may have been very brief, but those water creatures took over Teal'c.

- And let us not forget the alien entity that took over Major Carter. We still don't know exactly what it was.

- Oh yes, and the time that the alien defected back to his Goa'uld master. Of course, O'Neill _claims_ he was brainwashed, but I don't buy it.

And that's only about half of the list in regards to that issue.

PERSONNEL LOST/INJURED

O'Neill is either directly or indirectly responsible for deaths of over a dozen SGC personal. Good men and women, dead, because of him.

- While he didn't "pull the trigger" so to speak, he gave the orders that led to Major Kowalski's death. In my book, that's the same thing as murder. He did shoot and kill that scientist friend of Doctor Jackson.

- He responsible for the men and women who died rescuing him and his team when he allowed himself to get captured by Hathor. If he had killed her when he had the chance, she wouldn't have had the opportunity to capture them. If he was a competent leader, he wouldn't have led his team into a trap.

- Hell, according to his own mission report, he killed Major Carter on one occasion. The fact that she was later revived is beside the point.

I'm not even going to start on the inappropriate relationships he has with his teammates.

EXPERIMENTAL VALUE

I would love to get O'Neill in one of our NID labs. He claims the Asgard removed the Ancient database from his mind, but I don't buy it. Even if, and I seriously doubt he is telling the truth, he has the Ancient gene. That alone is worth experimenting on him. Not to mention the fact that, with all the injuries he has suffered during his career, and despite his advancing age, he still recovers remarkably quickly from even severe injuries with little to no lingering effects. I'd sorely love to know how that can be. There's also the fact that the Asgard seem unusually interested in O'Neill. Despite his proclamations that Thor "likes him" and everyone's assumption that the Asgard in general like and respect O'Neill, I think there's something more to it.

There's so much more about him in my report. Don't even get me started on his team. For a military commander, he gives them way to much leeway. Major Carter and Doctor Jackson shouldn't even _be_ on any SG team, not to mention the front line team. Especially Jackson. Oh sure, I agree he's knowledgeable enough in his field, but he is a civilian! The fact is, he shouldn't be at the SGC at all. At most, he should be in a lab, doing translations and that sort of thing. Major Carter should be behind a computer screen. We all know where I stand on the alien.

Despite all the evidence of his incompetence and recklessness, O'Neill has got everyone from the to the Air Force Chief of Staff President to most of the Joint Chiefs singing his praises. It doesn't matter now, though. He really screwed up this time. By the time I'm through with him, Colonel Jack O'Neill will be spending the rest of his days in a nice, white, padded room. At the very least, he'll never walk through the Stargate again. Either way, he'll wish the Goa'uld had finished him off. His career is over.

I could go on and on about why I despise O'Neill and about his inadequacies as an office, man, and human being, but I'll put it to rest for the time being. Right now, I have to see a psychiatrist about said, soon to be ex, Air Force Colonel.

_TBC_


	10. MacKenzie Straightup

**MacKenzie – Straight-up  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 10/2/2007

WORD COUNT: 1,169

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks to my beta reader, Cyn. It's always kinda irked me a bit that most (though not all) writers tend to cast MacKenzie as an evil, manipulative, bastard whose out to get O'Neill. I just don't see it. He certainly isn't a favorite of mine, but I don't see him as a bad guy. Here's my take on how MacKenzie feels about Jack.

* * *

The nerve of that man! Does he seriously think being a Senator gives him the right to come in here and tell me how to do my job? I mean really, coming in to my office like that, trying to act like he's my friend and we're just having a casual conversation. He came in all calm and cool at first and started off seemingly innocently by asking me about my personal opinion of O'Neill and his ability to function as an officer, as the leader of SG-1, and as the second in command of the SGC. After a few minutes of vague answers or silence in response to his questions, he moved on to asking about O'Neill's progress and when he'd be starting sessions with me about the incident and what my recommendation would be. Of course, I couldn't tell him even if I wanted to.

Which I don't.

Honestly, did he really think I didn't see through his act as soon as he mentioned the colonel's name?

When the buddy-buddy approach didn't get him anywhere he became progressively more irate until he actually _demanded_ that I recommend Colonel O'Neill be committed to a psychiatric institution. If he knew me at all, he would never have even attempted _that_ approach.

_No one_ tells me how to treat my patients.

Then he started ranting about reckless the colonel is and how he is doing such a great disservice and so on to the SGC. He called O'Neill an arrogant, self-serving, son of-a-bitch (among other things) who is using the Stargate to further his own agenda (can you say paranoia?). The only "agenda" Colonel O'Neill and the other members of SG-1 have is to protect this planet.

He didn't look too happy when I said, "Mister Pot, meet Mister Kettle." I wish I'd had my camera handy. I would have loved to have gotten a picture of his expression at that. Talk about priceless.

Yes, yes, I know. Not very professional of me. Even I have my moments. I believe even O'Neill would have liked that one. Probably would want copies of the pictures. If I'd managed to get any that is.

As for Colonel O'Neill, we've had our differences in the past, particularly when it comes to psychiatric matters - and specifically when it comes to my having Daniel Jackson committed - but I can't say that I hate the man. I'm not really sure where Kinsey got that idea from. The fact is, I respect the colonel. I have rarely met a man so willing to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to save others. Even people who doesn't know or like. That he does it without having a death wish is all the more amazing.

Yes, I know his commanding officer at the time, General West, chose him for the original trip through the gate because it was supposed to be a suicide mission. From what I've read of the original mission reports and the report by the psychiatrist who did his review upon his return, and from what I've seen in my time here, that O'Neill is long gone.

I'll admit that he and I will never be buddies, pals, best friends, or more than co-workers for that matter. Sure, I like him well enough, though I know the feelings are not mutual, but I know I will never go to his home (nor will he ever come to mine) for a friendly visit. Nor we will ever have a beer together at the local bar. And that's fine with me.

I don't take O'Neill's attitude towards me or my profession personally. I've seen his records concerning the psychiatric care he's had in the past and I can't say I blame him. Some of those men shouldn't be allowed to council a telephone pole never mind a soldier. I realize he may never forgive me for what he considers a serious mishandling of Doctor Jackson's case when I had him committed, and that's fine too. I realize, given the nature of what these people deal with everyday, I may have jumped the gun but, given the information I had at the time and given the fact that none of the other members of SG-1 were affected, I stand by my decision. Whether any of them believe me or not, I'm glad I was wrong.

I know how our first session will go. He'll come into my office, plop on my couch, and declare himself "fine". I will, as always, patiently explain to him that he is not fine; that no one could be after dealing with what he was put through. He will spend the remainder of that session staring at me in silence as he fiddles with everything and anything he can get his hands on. The next couple of sessions will go similarly until he slowly reveals just enough to get me to clear him for duty, throwing in just enough sarcastic remarks to cover the hurt and fear he does such a great job of covering up. I've learned just how far I can push before he clams up completely.

Although somewhat grudgingly, I must admit he is remarkable well-adjusted considering what he's been through. I've had men committed or whom I have recommended undergo long term treatment, some of whom I'm working with now, who haven't experienced half the horrors Colonel O'Neill has. Some of his demons come from things that have happened in his personal life. The death of his father when he was still very young, the loss of his beloved grandfather a few years later, and the tragic death of his son just barely scrapes the top of the barrel of heartbreaks he's endured. The fact that he has retained the ability to care so deeply about others, especial perfect strangers, is truly amazing.

Much as I would love to gag him at times, as I'm sure the general would like to do as well, there is no way that I can, in good conscious, recommend O'Neill be committed when I haven't even spoken to him yet. Knowing him the way I do though, I doubt this time will be any different then the others. I know everyone has their limit, their own breaking point, and that O'Neill will eventually reach his if he keeps this up, I just pray this isn't that time.

He's a stubborn, often condescending, infuriatingly closed-mouthed (when it comes to dealing with his thoughts and feelings after he's been hurt or tortured), smart-assed son-of-a-bitch. Knowing what I do about his past, I'd say he's earned the right to be that way. To a certain extent, anyway. The fact is, we need more men and women with his compassion and dedication. I will not be a party to Kinsey's agenda. I will not, in anyway, be a party to any plan that includes trying to remove O'Neill from this command. His team, the members of the SGC, hell the whole _planet_, needs him.

I wish him well.

_TBC_


	11. Finding His Place

**Finding His Place  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 11/5/2007

SERIES/SEQUEL INFO: "Climbing Out Of the Abyss" follows "MacKenzie - Straight-up"

WORD COUNT: 3092

AUTHORS NOTE: Wow. This was a lot longer than I expected it to be. I guess Jonas had a lot to say. I've never written a fic with Jonas in it, never mind him being the speaker, before. I hope this comes across all right. Some of you have been wondering when Jack will _finally_ be getting back into his story, I promise, the next part or the one after it will be a "Jack" part.

* * *

The commissary is quiet today. Most of the other teams are off world and those that aren't are either getting ready to go on a mission, or are on stand down. The Major and Teal'c just came back with SG-10 a few hours ago. We sit in silence as we eat lunch. We're all still just waiting for the colonel get better. Doctor Fraiser says that he is doing much better, but he still has violent nightmares at least two or three times a day. He has showed a few, very short periods of lucidity where he recognized Doctor Fraiser or nurse Grmek, who seems to spend almost as much time looking after him as the doctor does.

The doctor is going to let Teal'c sit with him for a while today. If the colonel doesn't try to kill him again, she'll allow Teal'c, at least, to stay with him. If he remains calm, or at least Teal'c can control him, she'll remove the restraints and allow visitors.

"Major, I was wondering, when you go to the colonel's house later, could I come with you? I'd like to help."

She looks up from her lunch with a surprised expression. She recovers quickly but hesitates to answer my question. I'm puzzled as to why. Then it hits me, from what I've heard, this would have been done by Daniel in the past. I quickly add, "I'm sorry, Major. I don't mean to intrude on anything."

She hesitates a while longer and seems to be debating on what to say. Finally, she answers me.

"It's okay, Jonas, you can come along. I can use the help. The colonel is pretty neat, but he hasn't been home in over a month. It'll probably be a few more days before Janet will release him from the infirmary." She gives me a small smile and goes back to her sandwich. She takes a bite then looks back up and adds, "Oh, you'll have to run it by General Hammond. He'll probably say yes, but he still needs to clear it first."

"Okay, I'll do that."

"If he clears you to leave, can you swing by Janet's office and pick up her list? I have a few things I need to finish up in my lab before we go."

I assure her I will and we finish our lunch in silence. After a few minutes Teal'c excuses himself and heads down to the gym. Major Carter picks up her tray and stands up. "Be ready to leave in an hour if the general okay's you to go."

I say okay and she turns and leaves. I drain the last of my tea, then make my way to General Hammond's office to get permission to accompany the major to the colonel's home.

I reach the general's office in a few short minutes. The door is shut so I knock and wait for a response.

"Come."

I take a deep breath then open the door and enter the office. The general doesn't even look up when I enter.

"General Hammond, sir, if you have a moment, I have a request."

He keeps his head down for a few more minutes, which seem to drag by agonizingly slowly, then puts his pen down and looks up.

"What can I help you with, Mister Quinn?"

"Well, I ...uh ...I know Major Carter is going to the colonel's house later today to get it ready for when Doctor Fraiser releases him and I was wondering if I could go along with her. I've already spoken with the major and she doesn't mind as long as it's okay with you."

A smile crosses his face. "I think that would be an excellent idea. Just make sure you stay with the major and do what she tells you."

"Yes, sir, I will. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll let the guards up top now you're cleared to leave the base with the major."

I thank the general and leave his office. That went surprisingly well. He seemed pleased that I had offered. I shouldn't really be surprised though, the general has been extremely fair and pleasant to me since I arrived here.

I'm not sure how Colonel O'Neill will react when he finds out about this. The irony of it is not lost on me. I'm sure it won't be lost on Colonel O'Neill either.

He still doesn't care much for me. I'm sure he'll appreciate this more than having me hang around his room in the infirmary. I just hope he doesn't see this as another attempt by me to replace Doctor Jackson. That's not my intention. It was not my intention when I requested being allowed to join SG-1, or when I began working in his lab. I know I could never take his place as their team member or as their fiend. I just want to show the colonel that I can be a productive member of his team. I would also like to do what I can to help defend Earth and Kelowna from the threat of the Goa'uld.

I stop at Doctor Fraiser's office and pick up her list of Dos and Don'ts for the colonel to follow from home.

"Hi Jonas. Sam told me you'd be dropping by to pick up my list for the colonel." She smiles and I nod. "This is the standard list of dos and don'ts and can and can't eat, that I give to Daniel in these cases," I see a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she mentions Doctor Jackson, "used to give Daniel," she adds. She smiles again as she continues. "With a few minor alterations. Physically, he's a little under weight but other wise he's okay. The colonel probably knows it by heart by now, but he needs some ...gentle prodding to make sure he follows it. He also needs someone to do the shopping for him or he'll completely disregard my note."

I thank her and leave to meet up with the major.

Thirty minutes later, we sign out and head for the colonel's house. The drive is made in silence and we arrive in just over ten minutes. She pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car.

"We don't have to worry about the yard. The colonel made arrangements years ago for one of the local boys to weed the garden and keep the lawn mowed." As we approach the house, she comments, "Looks like he was here recently."

She's right. There's not one weed in the garden and the lawn has been mowed.

Just as we reach the front door, a voice calls out to the major. We turn to see a teenaged boy of about fourteen or fifteen coming from the colonel's backyard. He hurls himself at the major and embraces her tightly asking questions rapid fire.

"Major Carter! How are you? Where's the colonel? Is he coming home today too? Why has he been gone so long? Was he hurt again?"

The major smiles and returns his hug, then pushes him away a little, hands on his shoulders. "Whoa, slow down, Scott. It's good to see you too. No, the colonel wasn't injured," it's not exactly the truth, but she can't tell him what was done to Colonel O'Neill. "He was very sick for a while, but he's getting better now. He should be home in a few days."

The boy is visibly relieved. "That's good to hear."

She then points to me, "Scott, this is my friend, Jonas. Jonas, this is Scott, the boy I was telling you about.

Scott extends his hand and I shake it. "Nice to meet you, Jonas."

"It's nice to meet you too."

Scott releases my hand then turns back to the major. "I have to go- I have to watch my brother and sister while my parents go out tonight. Tell the colonel that I said hi and that I'm glad he's feeling better and I'll come visit him when he gets home."

"I'll tell him, Scott, but you should wait a couple of days before you come over once he does get home." The boys face falls and he is about to say something when the Major begins speaking again. "I know you missed him and he missed you too, but the ...illness hit him pretty hard. It's going to take some time for him to get his strength back. Just give him a few days, okay?"

"Okay, Major." He hugs her one more time then runs down the driveway.

Major Carter must sense what I'm about to ask because she answers before I can even open my mouth.

"Colonel O'Neill met Scott about seven years ago, during the time between when he returned from the original Abydos mission and when the Stargate program was launched. He's a good kid, but he got involved with a bad crowd and got himself into a lot of trouble. One day, a few boys including Scott tried to break into the colonel's house. The other boys took off, but the colonel caught Scott. He could tell he was scared to death. Instead of calling the police, he walked Scott home and talked to the boy's parents. He told them he wouldn't call the police if they agreed that Scott would do yard work to work off the cost of replacing the window and if Scott joined the basketball team at the youth center. The colonel was coaching the team at the time. Scott's parent's agreed. He's been a straight "A" student in school and hasn't once been in trouble since that day."

I'm silent for a minute as I think about what the major has just told me. "Wow, he really cares about kids, doesn't he?"

The major smiles again. "Yeah, yeah, he does."

Apparently, all members of SG-1 have a key to each other's house or apartment for just such an occasion as this. The major unlocks the front door and lets us in.

"I'm going to start with the bathroom. As I said before, the colonel's pretty neat, but I just want to make sure he doesn't have to do anything when he gets home. Why don't you start with the kitchen?"

"Sure, major."

I'm pretty sure I see a somewhat sadistic grin on her face as she turns and walks down the hall. "Have fun." She calls out as she turns into the bathroom.

I think I've just been suckered.

I've been to the colonel's home once before, and I have an excellent memory, so I'm somewhat familiar with the layout of his kitchen. I start with the refrigerator. The smell as I open the door causes me to take a step back. I leave the door open and walk over to the kitchen window. It's breezy out today and the fresh air will help get rid of the odor faster. That done, I bring the garbage can over and start to go through the containers in the fridge.

Yuck. The rest of the colonel's home may be almost immaculate, but his refrigerator is far from it. There are several half empty containers of what was once Chinese, I think, but now resembles a science experiment gone horribly wrong. They're the first to go. The two partial boxes of pizza follow, as do the three "doggie bags" from various take out places. I don't even want to speculate as to what may have been in them. Several Tupperware containers with unidentifiable substances in them are the next to go. There's a half full gallon of milk with an expiration date of two days after we left for Antarctica. I turn my head as I open the container and dump the contents into the sink. The orange juice follows. Then I turn on the water and rinse the clumps down the drain. I hope the colonel doesn't hate me for this, but Doctor Fraiser was pretty adamant about the no beer thing, so I remove the two bottles of Guinness from the refrigerator door and drain them.

By the time I'm done, the only things left in the refrigerator are two boxes of margarine, one package of cream cheese, which is still good for another two weeks, a few bottles of diet Lipton ice tea, without lemon, (I'm pretty sure he keeps those for Teal'c), a few bottles of water, and half a case of Coke. I remove the remaining items and put them on the counter. I search around for a sponge and finally locate a clean one under the sink. It only takes a few minutes to wash out the refrigerator. I quickly replace the items I removed earlier and move on to the freezer. There isn't much in here, so this should only take a few minutes. Most of the stuff is unopened, so I check the expiration dates and throw away what has expired. There's a steak as well as a half empty carton of ice cream with freezer burn. Both items go into the trash.

Between the refrigerator and the freezer, the garbage can is now full. I pull the bag out of the can and tie it off then replace it with a new one from under the sink. My next task is the pantry. It's pretty well stocked. I'm careful to check the expiration dates on everything. By the time I'm done, the garbage can is almost full again. I put it back in its proper place and wash up the few dishes sitting on the counter. Between them and the containers I emptied from the refrigerator, there's not even half a sink full. It only takes a few minutes to do the dishes. That out of the way, I wipe down the counters.

Two hours later the kitchen is sufficiently cleaned, I use one of the magnets on the refrigerator to hang Doctor Fraiser's note. Next, I make a list of things the colonel will need from the grocery store. That done, I take the garbage bag out of the can and replace it with a fresh one. Then I tie the almost full one and grab the one I'd filled earlier. There's a bigger trash can behind the house and I deposit the two bags there.

I go back in the house to look for the major. I find her in the colonel's bedroom making his bed. I'm glad the major has taken up that task; I don't think he'll appreciate me going in there.

She turns to me as I enter.

"All done?"

"Yes. The kitchen is clean and the trash removed. What next?"

"I've already taken care of the bathroom, the guest rooms, the guest bathroom, and the laundry. Why don't you vacuum the living room rug while I finish up in here?"

"Okay." I turn and leave. I pull the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet and vacuum the living room rug. The major exits the colonel's room just as I'm putting the vacuum back.

"You're done, good. So am I. Let's go hit the food store. Here."

She hands me her list and I put it in my pocket with the list I made. We walk back to her car and drive to the local grocery store. When we get there, the major grabs a shopping cart and I follow her into the store. I've never been to this place before, so I let her lead. Just as we enter, her cell phone rings. She stops and pulls it out of her pocket.

"Carter." She answers. "Wow. ...That's great! ...Okay. ...We're at the food store now. We should be back to the base in a few hours. ...I know. ...Okay. Talk to you later." The major snaps her cell phone shut.

"That was Janet. Teal'c's visit with the colonel went well. She's removing the restraints and allowing Teal'c to stay with him. If all goes well, we can visit tomorrow and she'll release him a day or two after that."

"That's great news." I tell her. I'm pleased to hear that Colonel O'Neill is finally getting over the effects of the withdrawal. The physical effects anyway.

The major continues to smile as we enter the store. Knowing that fresh fruit and vegetables have a relatively short life span and that it will still be at least two days before Doctor Fraiser will release the colonel, we select only a few things that should last at least a week. We make our way up and down the isles grabbing paper towels, toilet paper, laundry soap and dryer sheets, bread, juice, canned soup, and other foods on the doctor's "Okay to eat and drink" list. By the time we reach the frozen food section, the cart is almost full. We grab a few bags of frozen vegetables, two half gallons of ice cream, and some things that will be easy for the colonel thaw and cook or microwave. Working together, it only takes us about forty-five minutes to get everything we need. The lines, thankfully, are short and it only takes us another ten minutes to get though it and back to the car. We load up her trunk and return to the colonel's house.

Together, we bring in the many bags of groceries and begin putting everything away. The major takes care of restocking the bathrooms and the pantry while I put away the perishables. Half an hour later, we're done.

"Thanks for helping me out, Jonas. It would have took me all evening to do this on my own."

"It was my pleasure, Major."

The trip back to the mountain is as quiet as the ride to the colonel's house. When we arrive, she heads back to her lab.

She gets a few feet away before she stops and faces me again. "Jonas."

"Yes, Major?"

"Call me Sam."

I stand in disbelief as she turns and walks away. After a couple of minutes, I shake myself out of my stunned silence and go to my quarters. I remove my shoes and get comfortable on my bed. As I flip on the television, it hits me. She called me her friend when she introduced me to Scott. While she hasn't been nearly as distant towards me as the colonel has, she hasn't been overly friendly either. Only Teal'c seemed to accept me from the start.

I can't help but smile.

I hope that, someday, the colonel will see me as a friend and not just as a placeholder as he waits for Doctor Jackson to return.

_TBC_


	12. Baby Steps

**Baby Steps  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 4/11/2008

Word Count: 4,552

Author's Note: Some people have been asking when Jack will actually get back in his own story, well ...here he is! To make up for his long absence, this is over twice as long as the other chapters. There's about 4 or so more coming, and I promise at least one of them will be another Jack part. Thanks, as always, to my beta reader, Cyn.

* * *

"Alright," Doc exclaims as she throws up her hands in defeat, "alright, enough already. You can go home today, Colonel. _If_ you can be good while I update the general on your condition and let him know I'm releasing you. The usual rules apply."

I shake my head like an over excited puppy. I can do that. It'll only take another half hour, hour, tops.

She looks at me as if she can hear what I'm thinking, and sometimes I swear she can. It's actually a little scary, and creepy, sometimes. I was only gonna antagonize them a little bit more. Sometimes they just make it to damn easy. "I'm serious, sir. You so much as say "boo" to any of my staff and you stay here. I'll strap your ass right back to that bed if I have to."

She's the only person on this base, other than the general, who can get away with talking to me that way. She's the only one, besides Hammond, brave enough to even try. Again, I shake my head. I'd agree to just about anything if it meant getting me the hell out of here sooner.

She looks me over one last time, gives me the "I'll know if you try anything" warning glare, and then leaves my room.

Finally! After two days of endless needling, complaining, and being an all around pain in the ass, Janet is letting me go home today. I've been awake for four days now. Okay, so the first day I was only semi-lucent and only for about three hours out of the whole day. Can you believe she wanted to keep me here for _another_ two days! Something about my weight (so I lost almost thirty pounds in the past three weeks or so), and elctroknights ...or something like that. I stopped paying attention after the "I really think it would be best if we keep you here on an IV for at least two more days". No way in hell was I gonna stand for that. I'm not sure who's more relieved that Janet relented, Janet, her staff, or me. I should be ashamed of myself for being such a bastard, but I'm not. Not really.

In my own defense, I don't think anyone can go through what I just went through and _not_ be at least a little cranky about it. It's been over three weeks since I've seen my own house or bed for crying out loud! What the hell did they expect? Actually, they probably pretty much expected exactly what they got, or close enough to it anyway. I'll probably feel bad about my behavior in a few days, once I've had a chance to get myself re-acclimated to living like a human being again, but for now I just want to go the hell home.

I'd like to say that the worst is behind me now and everything will be back to normal in no time.

That's what I'd _like_ to say, but I can't. I know better. I've been through this waaaaay to many times to believe that everything is going to be hunky dory now just because I'm through the withdrawal; I wasn't kidding when I told Daniel I'd done the "drugged out strapped to the bed" thing before. To many times for my liking.

Daniel. God, I miss him. He was there with me in that cell. I know he was. He helped me get through that ...ordeal. I think he was with me here too. I mean after when I'd said goodbye to him in the infirmary my first day back, but that might have just been the drugs. Doc had me pretty doped up for a while. Either way, I'll never tell anyone that I saw him, spoke to him, they'd think I'm nuts. Not that they probably don't anyway, but that's beside the point. I miss my friend. The fact that he's, as I understand it, not actually dead in the way one would think of death, doesn't help. It just makes it hurt more.

If someone had told me a little over seven years ago that a scientist would become one of the best friends I've ever had, I'da told them they were off their frigging rocker. I'm not even sure when it really happened. Sure, I was grateful as all hell when he saved my life, in more ways than one, on that first mission to Abydos, but I wouldn't really say we were best friends then. Friends, maybe, but not best friends. Now that I look back on it, it was probably after that first mission to Chulak. Although, I didn't really realize it until after the unauthorized (I'm _still_ amazed that I didn't get Court Marshaled after that) mission to what turned out to be one of Apophis's mother ships. When I thought I was leaving Daniel to die alone, that's when it hit me just how much he'd come to mean to me. Even though I was reasonably sure we were all going to die, leaving him like that was exceptionally hard. I know what's it like to get left behind, destroyed a friendship because of my anger over it, and then I did the same damn thing to Daniel. That time, at least, we got him back.

I want my friend back again. Here. Now. On _this_ plane of existence. My flesh and blood, never on time, rock obsessed, geeky friend.

Back to the subject on hand, the recover from withdrawal from the effects of the sarcophagus was just the beginning. The flashbacks and nightmares will start soon. There's also the mandatory sessions with McKenzie for the psych eval. Those are just gonna be _sooo_ much fun.

Not.

Although ...I suppose I could have some fun with McKenzie a la Mel Gibson style in Lethal Weapon 4.

Did I ever mention that I really don't like shrinks?

Right now, I'm just puttering around waiting for my chaperones. Janet may have agreed to spring me a little early, but, as per usual, not without conditions. The first one is that I can't go home alone (why all three of them have to tag along is beyond me), and I can't be alone for at least the next three days. Napoleonic Power Monger. The second, of course, being that I talk my pills like a good little Irish boy, and not drink any alcohol. Not even beer. See what I mean by power monger? And she'll know too, even if the others don't snitch on me. Don't ask me _how_ she always knows when I sneak a drink or two, she just does. It's kinda scary when you think about it. After the last time, I even went so far as to thoroughly check my house for any kind of hidden bugs or cameras.

You know, this really isn't like the movies. After spending two weeks strapped to a bed, people don't just get up and walk around like nothing ever happened. I fell so damn weak. Drained. Like there's nothing left of me other than this worn out body. My soul, what little scrap of it was left, was stolen by that son-of-a-bitch. All I feel is hatred. Anger and a whole _fucking_ lot of hatred. If I ever see that snakehead again I'll kill him. A lot slower than he killed me. An hour or two, that's all I'd need. You'd be amazed how long an hour can last when you're being tortured to death. It's even worse when you know you won't be staying dead for very long and the whole thing will start over again shortly after it ends.

If only I could get my hands on some of that acid. I suppose sulfuric acid would due in a pinch.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Janet! I can walk." I protest as Teal'c pushes a wheel chair into the room, Janet, and the other half of my team trailing behind him. Doc, as usual, doesn't waiver in the least. She just gives me her usual stern "I'm the doctor so what I say goes" look and says, "You go with your six in that chair or not at all, Colonel."

I return her stare with my best "I'm the colonel and I give the orders" look, but she doesn't budge at all. After a few minutes of staring, I finally relent and sit in the damn chair. At this point I'd agree to just about anything if it'd get me out of this damn mountain. Fine. Reluctantly, I sit in the chair and grumble. I'll go in the chair but I'll be damned if I'll go quietly. Teal'c squeezes my shoulder then puts both hands on the chair's handles. Carter finally steps forward, smiling. And what the heck is she smiling about anyway? This is very _not_ funny. I cross my arms over my chest and huff in defeat.

Jonas hangs back. He seems a little jumpy, sorta nervous. I know I haven't exactly welcomed him with open arms. Far from it, if I brutally honest with myself, but his reaction seems a little ...off. I stare at him for a minute trying to work it out. A memory hits me out of nowhere. I'm lashing out at someone, I don't remember what triggered the attack, but suddenly the face changes and I'm not attacking the same person anymore. The new face is familiar, someone I've met recently... Crap! No wonder Jonas is so jumpy.

"Uhh, sorry about ...uhh ...I didn't ...ya know... Sorry." My arms kind of flap around. And don't I just sound like a babbling idiot now? I look like I'm doing an imitation of a drugged out air traffic controller.

Jonas just shrugs, but some of the tension seems to fade. I'm not sure what he was more nervous about, if I'd attack him again, or if I'd even remember that I had attacked him before. Twice. He remains quiet as he grabs the DVDs Teal'c had brought in for me. He looks at me and gives small smile and a nod then heads towards the door. The subject is dropped. He'll never know how grateful I am for that, that he didn't make a scene about it.

Sam smiles and says, "Jonas and I are going to stop at the video store and return these, sir. We'll meet you at your house. Want us to pick anything up anything else while we're out?"

I look around the room then waive her closer. As she approaches I say in a low voice, "Beer and pizza, extra bacon."

"I don't think so, sir. Jonas has the list, which I'm sure you know by heart by now." I curse under my breath as I hear Janet. She isn't even in the room and I _know_ my voice was very low. See what I mean? Freaking spooky. I wonder if Carter or Teal'c is wearing a wire. Or both of them. Maybe even Jonas? Yes, I know I sound paranoid, but I don't care. How else can she know what I said, and when?

"Fine. Starve me then." I cross my arms over my chest. Between that and the look on my face, I must look like a petulant child. Carter laughs.

"I'm sure we can come up with an acceptable alternative, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I grumble.

Carter and Jonas exit the small room leaving Teal'c and I alone. I turn slightly and look at him. Stoic as usual. I swear and can see the smallest hint of a small on his lips though. I point towards the door and say, "Home, James." Teal'c does his little sorta head bow thing and we leave. A nurse accompanies us. He'll be bringing the wheelchair back down to the infirmary.

It was a bit of a pain in the ass, but I managed to get the government, with the general's help, to get Teal'c recognized as a legal US citizen (sucks that the bastards still won't let him live off base yet, but I'm still working on that), with most of the privileges that go with it. Including a driver's license. Which has come in handy on a few other occasions such as this. I start to get a little antsy as we approach and enter the elevator. When the door closes and we start to move, I can feel my hands start to shake. I need to get out of here. Now. I can't do this. Not again. Teal'c sees my reaction, can sense my rising panic. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it firmly. I feel my nerves begin to settle and am immensely grateful he is here. The nurse acts as if nothing has happened and casually bends down as if to tie his sneaker. The professionalism and intuitiveness of the doc's staff never ceases to amaze me.

Teal'c allows me to maintain what remains of my pride and makes no attempt to help me out of the wheelchair or into my truck, which takes longer than I willing to admit it should. The nurse takes the wheelchair from Teal'c. "Goodnight, Colonel." He says to me then turns to Teal'c. "Good night, sir." We both say goodnight and Teal'c climbs into the driver's side. I'm not sure when people started calling Teal'c, sir, but at least half of the base, both military and non-military members, do it know. I'm glad. It shows that they respect him, and consider him to be one of us. He's earned that respect several times over.

Teal'c pulls the truck expertly out of the parking space. The drive home is made in companionable silence. I lean my head back and listen to the soft sounds of the music from the radio. I don't even realize I've fallen asleep until I feel Teal'c's hand gently shaking my shoulder.

"We are here, O'Neill." He says.

I nod and he removes his hand from my shoulder and turns off the truck. I shake my head a little then get out and make my way up to the front door. I fumble around in my coat pocket for my keys for a minute before I remember that Teal'c has them. I grin a little sheepishly as he comes up behind me. I move over to give him enough room to unlock and open the door. He then hands me back my keys and allows me to enter first.

Ahhh, the cleaning crew has been here I see. I can tell because my house has a nice flowery scent to it that I _know_ it didn't have the last time I left. Must have been Carter. She's the only one who uses that flowery smelling air freshener stuff. Usually, Daniel takes up the task of cleaning my house, sans the flower spray, but I seriously doubt it was him this time. Heaven forbid he should break a rule or two to help a friend in need.

Okay, so that was a little harsh. Sue me. I'm too damn tired to care right now. Not being around also makes him an easy target.

I remove my shoes and toss them into the corner then pick up the remote from the coffee table and turn on the TV then flip to ESPN. I consider plopping down on the couch then think better of it. I need a shower. A _real_ shower.

I call out to Teal'c, who is heading towards the kitchen, "Yo, T, gotta go?"

Knowing what I mean, he replies, "I do not, O'Neill. Would you like soup or sandwiches for dinner?"

I want to say neither, that I'd like some real food for a change, but I know I shouldn't. Janet said light meals for a few days, until my system gets back to eating real food again, and I am _soooo_ not in the mood to listen to her bitch about my disregarded for her rules tonight. Besides, I'm really not all that hungry anyway. I call back out, "Soup's fine."

I don't bother saying what kind. Mostly because I really don't care, but also because I haven't got a clue as to what I even have anymore.

As I enter the bathroom my hands begin to shake and breathing gets faster. I forgot how small this room is. It never bothered me before. I curl my hands into fists, close my eyes, and force my breathing back to normal. I undress, shower, and shave in what has to be record time. Then I hightail it out of the bathroom as fast as I can without looking silly, or falling on my ass, and head for my bedroom. I pull out my favorite, comfy sweatpants and an Air Force t-shirt. By the time I get dressed and make my way to the living room, the other half of my team arrives. At the knock on my front door, I walk over and let them in.

"Hey guys, took ya long enough." I tease as they come inside.

Carter hugs me a little tighter than usual and replies, "Sorry, sir, there was a fender bender on the way over here."

Jonas nods and extends his hand. I shake it and motion to the couch. Just as we all sit down, Teal'c comes out of the kitchen with four bowls of piping hot soup and a plate of sandwiches. Guess he decided to make both anyway. I notice he's already set the drinks on the coffee table. Iced tea all the way around. What I wouldn't give for a beer right now. Pissing Frazier off before she clears me for duty would _really_ not be a good idea, so I just sit in my chair and take a sip of my tea. Carter, Teal'c, and Jonas take a seat on the couch.

We eat in silence. I don't even get halfway through my soup. I'm just not as hungry as I thought I was. I do finish my tea though. I love the way T makes it. Just enough sugar so that it's sweet, but not to sweet. Carter looks at my half full bowl and frowns but says nothing. In a few minutes, they finish eating. There's still a couple of sandwiches on the plate. "Anyone want another one?" I ask as I lift the plate.

I receive a chorus of "no thanks", so I take their bowls and cups, along with mine, and put them on the tray Teal'c used to bring them out. As I stand to take them into the kitchen, Jonas stands up as well.

"I can get that for you, Colonel." He reaches over to take the tray from me.

What the hell? I didn't break my legs damn it. "I'm not a freaking invalid, Jonas. I can make it to my kitchen and back all by myself." I regret the words as soon as I say them, but I'm to aggravated to apologize. Instead I storm off into the kitchen. I slam the tray down, more angry with myself then with Jonas. I take a few deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. He was just worried about me and trying to help. After the way I've treated him, I'm not sure why.

They're all worried. I wish they'd stop. I'm not made of China.

I put the plate of sandwiches in the fridge and the bowls on the counter by the sink then refill our glasses and head back out to the living room. They all look at me. Probably expecting me to apologize. Or blow up again. Or maybe just fall apart.

They should know better.

I set the tray down and give them their now refilled cups then sit back down. I didn't realize how much I missed this chair. It's amazing the little things you miss when you lose everything. I take a few sips of my tea then look up again. And they're still staring, their own cups untouched. It's so quiet in here I can hear old man Stowe's little rat dog yapping a few houses up. I don't think I'll ever figure out how such a little dog can be so loud. It's not so much their silence that's grating on my nerves right now, it's the way they are looking at me, watching me. Like I'm gonna freaking break or something.

"What!" I practically yell. "For crying out loud people. Will you stop treating me like I'm a fucking china doll about to break or something." Teal'c remains as stoic as ever; the only change to his facial features is the arching of his eyebrow. Carter flinches, as does Jonas.

Crap! What the hell is wrong with me? I force myself to calm down again. I shouldn't be blowing up at them like this.

"So, Jonas," I offer as attempt at an pathetic apology, "you get stuck with KP?"

"Uhhh," He begins, startled, "yes, Colonel, I did. How did you know."

I give him a small smile. "Carter has learned to avoid my kitchen at all costs in ...situations like this. You being the new guy, I kinda figured she'd saddle you with that job." Which is true. While Daniel would usually do this on his own, he would occasionally get Carter or Teal'c to help him, and usually tried to stick them with kitchen clean up.

The tension begins to drain from the room, finally. Jonas smiles.

Then his expression becomes more serious, and with a straight face, he says, "For someone who has such a problem with scientists, I find it odd that you seem to be aspiring to be one yourself."

I stare at him, dumbfounded, for a minute. Now where the hell did he ever get a crazy idea like that?

He can't keep a straight face for long though and smiles again. "All those experiments in your refrigerator where ...interesting, to say the least."

I think my jaw just about hit the floor. To my credit however, I recover quickly and within seconds, we're all laughing. The tension is gone now and we all relax. Teal'c gets up and goes to the stand with my DVDs. After a few minutes, he finally selects one. I find it quiet ironic that an alien has such an obsession with alien movies. I think I know Star Wars by heart now. All five of them. I know I'll be taking him to the theater to see the last one when it comes out. I'll never admit this to anyone, but I did actually enjoy them. I really don't see why everyone hates Jar Jar so much. I thought he was hilarious. Made the movie, in my opinion. Teal'c likes him too.

Thankfully, he doesn't choose Star Wars this time. I really do like the movies, but there's only so many times you can see a movie in a certain period of time before you get tired of it. We watched the four that are already on DVD at least four times in the two months before the Antarctica mission. Four times _each_, that is.

Half way through the movie, Carter falls asleep. I get up to cover her with a blanket when the next scene of the movie catches my attention. The hero is hanging from a rafter by his wrists when one of the villain's lackeys walks up to him with a knife, it's edge glowing hot, and holds it close to his left eye.

I freeze. Everything around me fades out and all I can see is that slimy bastard, Ba'al, standing there with that knife aimed at me, demanding answers to questions I couldn't answer. My heart is racing as I wait for him to release the knife again. Wait for the agonizing pain. I keep hearing my name, but the voice isn't Ba'al's anymore. Ba'al's torture chamber fades away and I'm back in my living room. My friends are looking at me with worried expressions.

Teal'c's voice finally brings me fully back to the here and now. I look at him. "Are you all right, O'Neill?" I think I actually see a hint of concern on his face. I can certainly hear it in his voice. No one moves. T and Carter know better than to touch me, or even to get to close during times like this. I imagine, after the infirmary incidents, that Jonas has learned that lesson well.

I blink a few times then finally answer him. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a ...a ...ah... I'm fine." I don't know what to say. There's no way in hell I'll tell them what that bastard did to me. Not even Teal'c. Although I'm sure he has some pretty good ideas about it.

No one is saying anything. They're still looking concerned. I can't deal with this right now. "I'm going to bed. You guys know where the guest bedrooms are. Jonas, There's only two other bedrooms, so you'll have to crash on the couch. It's actually pretty comfortable."

"I will prepare some tea and your medication, O'Neill." He doesn't give me a chance to respond as he heads for the kitchen.

"Come on, Jonas, we should be going now. It's getting late and I need to be back at the base early tomorrow morning." Carter laughs at the surprised look on my face. "I figured you wouldn't want three mother hens staying her and clucking at you all night, sir. Jonas and I never intended to stay the night. We just wanted to visit with you. Make sure you got settled in okay."

I don't know what to say, so I just nod as I stand to walk them out.

"Good night, sir." Carter says as she stands. She and Jonas head for the door while I trail behind them. "Come on, Jonas, I'll drop you off at the base."

As much as I do, usually, enjoy their company, I'm glad Carter and Jonas have decided not to stay. I wish Teal'c would go back to the base too, but you know what they say about wishing... Don't get me wrong, I love Teal'c like a brother, but I could really use some time alone.

I extend my hand to Jonas as he waives goodbye. Ahh, if only I had my camera near bye. This is the first time I've ever extended my hand to him first. The look on his face ...talk about your Kodak moments. To his credit, he recovers quickly and we shake hands. "I'm glad you're home, Colonel." He says.

"Me too, Jonas. Again, thanks for helping Carter with my place. I really do appreciate it."

"Anytime, Colonel."

Carter approaches now. "You'll get through this, sir, I know you will. One small step at a time. And we'll all be here to help you." Carter gives me a brief hug then follows Jonas out to her car. I stand by the door for a few minutes and watch them drive off.

Carter's right, I will get through this. It'll be hard, and I'll probably say more hurtful things to all of them before I do, but I will put this behind me. One little baby step at a time, and with a little help from my friends.

_TBC_


	13. The Measure of a Man

**The Measure of a Man**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/13/2008

WORD COUNT: 1,389

Author's Note: They don't mention much about the President (the guy who was President for the first six seasons, _not_ Hayes), so I figured this would be a good time to explain it a little and establish the connection between him and Jack. Thanks, as always, to my beta reader, Cyn.

* * *

As I finish reading the update report on Colonel Jack O'Neill, who was finally able to go home today, I can not believe this man is still alive . . . and sane. Although, some might say the 'sane' part is yet to be determined. I can count on one hand the number of men I know who _might_ have been able to endure that kind of torture then re and not only escape, but also rescue a slave while doing it. He still has to go through several psychiatric sessions with McKenzie, but I have no doubt that he'll pass them and be back on active duty in no time. I don't believe I've ever met anyone as remarkable, and resilient as Jack.

I was shocked when I learned Jack had disappeared from the Tok'ra base, and was relieved when he'd come back. When I heard what he'd been put through, I was angry. Actually, that's an understatement. What that bastard did to him. . . . I was worried as he went through withdrawal. I'm thrilled that he seems to have come through it no more the worse for wear than he was before the withdrawal started. His recovery isn't over yet, not by a long shot, but from what I know about his team, they won't let him get through this alone.

I didn't know much about him before our first meeting. I knew he'd joined the Air Force Academy at the age of seventeen and had graduated at the top of his class. He's been involved, in someway or another, in every US involved war from Vietnam to Operation Desert Storm. He's got a chest full of medals that would make most generals jealous. Even more so if they knew about all the ones he's been awarded but doesn't wear, to prove it. I knew he'd been married at one time, but had divorced not long after the tragic death of his only child.

The first time I met him in person, after the first time his team saved the planet, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd heard rumors, and read reports, that ranged from him being a hard-assed, no nonsense military officer, to him being a practical joker extraordinaire, and just about everything in between. Some had even reported him as being irreverent and insubordinate. If not for the reprimands, it's entirely possible he could have become one of the youngest generals in the history of the United States Air Force. I had decided to reserve judgment until I had met the man myself.

I was a little surprised. He was somewhat nervous at first (I think he was afraid of saying something that would get him court-marshalled), but warmed up quickly. He was a little sarcastic, quick to smile, quicker to crack a joke, and not afraid to speak his mind. I liked him right from the beginning. The more I got to know him over the past few years, the more I saw of his sarcastic side. That man has a sharp tongue that's for sure.

After our first meeting at the White House, I started reading a good many of his mission reports. He is the kind of officer that I, during my time in the service, would have been honored to serve under, privileged to command, and damn proud to have fought beside.

I served in the Army for twenty-one years, and met a lot of fine officers and enlisted men (and women), but I can honestly say I have never met anyone quite like him. Never have I met anyone who has gained the admiration and respect of so many people from every branch of the military, even those who don't particularly like him very much. No one can deny his devotion to his team, the Air Force, and his country.

It was also after the first meeting, I realized that I knew him. Or at least, he looked really familiar. I started looking further into his record. Which is another reason I'm amazed that he's still alive and able to serve. He's been captured by the enemy and tortured three times (and that was _before_ he joined the Stargate program). He's been shot five times, and stabbed three times. He broke nine bones and had to drag himself out of a blazing hot desert, in hostile territory, after a mishap with his parachute. I lost count of the number of times he's been zatted. He's had surgery on his knee three times. And that's not even the half of it. I'd hate to see how thick his medical file is. "Files" is probably more appropriate. I seriously doubt it all fits in one file.

Anyway, after looking into his service record, I realized that that meeting hadn't been our first. I did know him. I had met him almost twelve years ago. I was a Colonel then, and he was a Captain. He was beginning training for the Special Forces, and I was on my way out. I'd agreed to train one last unit, which happened to be the one Jack was in. He was just as much of a sarcastic wise ass then as he is now. We became friends during training and kept in touch for a while, but after about two years, we started to drift apart. His team went on more missions than any other team I'd heard of before. He was home so rarely, I didn't want to intrude on his family time when he was home. Eventually, I just lost track of him all together.

Back then he smiled more, but that was before he'd done ten years of Special Ops missions and had lost his beloved child.

Upon our second meeting at the White House, I called him on it. Turns out he did remember me; he just didn't say anything because he didn't want to embarrass me if I didn't remember him.

I've gotten to know him, again, pretty well over the last few years. It never ceases to amaze me how someone with such a low sense of self worth can inspire such loyalty and respect from so many people. How can someone who places almost no value on his own life inspire others to do so much more than they ever thought themselves capable of?

How can someone who has accomplished so much, has won so many battles and saved so many lives using his intelligence (I don't buy his dummy act, not since the moment I first met him), and street smarts, think that his own life has so much less value than the people he works with?

I know how. Because it's been drilled into him by men like General West since he was barely old enough to shave. And, I'm ashamed to admit, that will probably never change. We need him too much. And he will continue to do it gladly until, a) he dies in battle, b) he's injured so badly that he can't fight anymore and is given a medical discharge, or c) he finally says the hell with it all and retires for good. The sad truth is, with his personality and moral code, I seriously doubt he will ever retire. If he continues to fight, he won't live long enough to die of old age.

A part of me wants to urge him to retire. To tell him he's done enough and to take his well earned rest. Realistically, I know that will never happen either. He wouldn't do it anyway, and I won't ask. The program needs him too much. Even if he lives long enough to one day realize he's to old for field work, I have no doubt he'll take over as commander of the SGC someday.

To Jack O'Neill words like honor, duty, and loyalty are much more than just words, guidelines, or notions. They are how he leads his people, and how he lives his life. He can be harsh and, at times cruel, when the situation demands it. On the other hand, despite the tragedies he has suffered and the terrible things that have been done to him (and that he has had to do) he has an enormous heart with an amazing capacity for love and compassion.

And that, I suppose, is the true measure of a man.

_TBC_


	14. That's What Friends Are For

**That's What Friends Are For  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 9/7/2008

Categories: Angst, Drama, Friendship

Content Warnings: Mild Language

Word Count: 4,819

Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta, Cyn. The words to the prayer that Jack says are at the end of the fic. For those of you who may have been wondering what Sergeant (Nurse) Grmek's first name is, you'll find out in this chapter!

* * *

JACK

Let me start off by saying that this was soooo _not_ my idea.

It's been two weeks since my last session with MacKenzie, six since I got out of the infirmary, and my team has decided that we need to celebrate the fact that Janet and the quack (excuse me, "Doctor MacKenzie") are _finally_ clearing me to go back to light duty starting Monday morning.

My idea was pizza and beers with my team and, maybe, Janet. But no, they (they being my team) decided that we need to have a barbecue, at my house of course, to celebrate. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't bother me that it's happening here, I'm the only one with a swing set to preoccupy the kids with, I just wanted to have a quiet little thing is all. I don't think I'm ready for a lot of people or noise just yet. Don't know why, but I have a funny feeling this was all Jonas' idea. That man has a borderline unhealthy obsession with food and he's learned that there is always a ton of food when I barbecue. All different kinds, too.

When we told Janet about the barbecue, she, in her infinite wisdom, informed us to keep it to a minimum this time. She said it was because she didn't want me to push myself too much just yet. In reality, I think it was because she thinks there is a chance something will happen, that I'll spazz out or something, and it will be a lot easier to deal with in a smaller crowd.

It's a small party really, especially considering that my barbecues usually wind up having every SG team that's not off world, along with their families, here. Not to mention about another dozen or so other SGC personnel. Today it's just SG-1, Janet, Cassie, Sergeant Grmek and her kids, Siler, Ferretti, and General Hammond and his grandkids.

How bad can it be?

x x x x x x x x x x x x

JACK

It's weird really, I can feel myself kinda zoning out, being pulled into a past I'd _really_ rather forget, but I can shake out of it. I feel like the walls are pushing in on me and it suddenly seems very, very crowded in here. I don't want to make a scene, nor do I want to hurt anyone. "Get out." I say suddenly.

Everyone looks at me stunned. No one moves. I feel the panic rising and try to squash it down, but it's no use. My voice rises a little as I speak again. "I said get out. All of you. Just leave." Still, no one moves and their stunned looks are turning to concern. Which, for reasons I can't articulate and don't fully understand, just thoroughly pisses me off. "I said, get out now!" I'm practically screaming at this point. The past is crowding in on me. I can feel myself slipping into it and it's scaring the hell out of me. Can't these people take a hint and go the fuck home? I'm just glad that the kids are all playing outside. I think I'd be scaring the crap out of them right now otherwise.

Ever the calm, cool-headed one, Janet steps in.

"Okay, everyone, why don't you all go outside and get some fresh air." When no one moves, she adds, "Go on. We'll be out shortly," more forcefully as she makes shooing motions. "Teal'c, don't go far." They all look like they want to argue with her, especially my team and Ferretti, but after a few seconds, they wisely make their way out to the backyard until the only ones left in my living room are Janet, Grmek, and myself.

Suddenly, it's much hotter in here than it was just a few minutes ago. I can feel the sweat starting to roll down my back and neck. It slides down my forehead and into my eyes. It really shouldn't be so hot in here.

Janet whispers something to Grmek, but I can't make it out. The other noises are getting louder. I barely notice as Grmek leaves and Janet guides me over to my couch. She speaks to me in low, soothing tones. It sounds like she's telling me to relax; to talk to her, but it's getting so hard to hear her. I'm confused. Some of the faces don't belong here. Different faces from different times in my past, including the recent past, that shouldn't be together. It's disconcerting and frightening.

The voices in my head, cruel and taunting, are muttered and unintelligible. They want something that much I can tell, but what? There's a sudden, sharp pain in my side and I want to double over to try and protect myself from it, but suddenly I can't move anymore. My arms and legs feel restricted, like something is holding them tightly in place. The temperature seems to rise considerably and all I can hear now is the demanding voices and a pathetic gasping that I pray is not coming from me. I have a sickening feeling that it is.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

JANET

Crap! I've seen that look on his face before, the colonel is zoning out. I had a bad feeling this would happen. Which makes me that much more relieved that I limited this party to just a few guests and that the children are already outside. I immediately rush to his side and send everyone else outside. Everyone but Teal'c that is. I don't know how bad this will get and I may need his strength. I watch as Teal'c makes his way to the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard, but stays just inside the door. He knows that I may need him at some point, but for know I need him out of the colonel's line of sight. I send my nurse, Grmek to get a cold, wet washcloth.

I'll admit, I was surprised when I learned that the colonel had invited her. He didn't seem to happy about this gathering at first and I get the impression he wanted a simple "team night" to celebrate his return to light duty and the lifting of restrictions on what he eats and drinks, not to mention getting off the meds completely. I guess I shouldn't be really. The two of them have become quite close since Erin transferred to Stargate Command. She and Jared Tacks are the only nurses who can get close to him when he has one of his more severe "incidents" in the infirmary when he is ill or injured. He's really taken to her kids as well.

"It's okay, Colonel, you're home. You're safe. Calm down. No one can hurt you here." I keep my tone low and comforting as I guide him to the couch. He sits when I gently push him down, but gives no other indication that he knows I'm here. I lift his legs on the couch as he lays his head on the armrest. No sooner is he stretched out, his muscles stiffen.

"Doctor," Erin says as she approaches. I stick out my hand and she gives me the damp washcloth I'd sent her for. There isn't anything more we can do for him now, so she kneels next to me on the floor and takes his hand into hers.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

ERIN

It's great to see Colonel O'Neill looking so well. I took two weeks vacation three weeks ago then Grady got the chicken pox, so I had to take another week off to take care of him. Taking care of a sick, itchy thirty-four month-old child is just soooo much fun. Not. Anyway, I just went back to work two days ago, so I haven't had a chance to check up on Jack . . . I mean Colonel O'Neill, yet.

I think the barbecue will be good for him. It'll give him a chance to reconnect with some of his friends, besides his team, before he goes back to work. Janet told me that she and MacKenzie have agreed that the colonel is ready to go back on light duty. That will be good for him too. I imagine that he's going a little stir crazy now. Probably has been for a few weeks now, actually.

The kids have missed him. It's been about four months since they've seen him. I think he's missed the kids too. His face really lit up when we got here and they ran up to greet him. I know Tessa, Kaylee, and Cassie have really missed him too. Cassie gets to see him a little more often then any of the other kids, but this is the first time she's seen him since he came back from Ba'al's planet. As much as he misses them, he was really hesitant about having any of the kids here. Even Cassie. From what I understand, Major Carter and Teal'c really had to work on him to get him to finally agree to let the kids come. Sergeant Siler was going to bring his kids too, but they had already arranged for them to visit their grandparents so they have been in Arizona for the past week and will be there for about another week or so.

Everyone's been here for about an hour know and, so far so good. He's been laughing and having a good time. Doctor Fraiser did have one strict rule for today, no "shop" talk. Everyone here knows better than to defy her. Except maybe Ja. . . the colonel. He's the only one with the nerve to bust her chops on something like that. It's somewhat frightening how much pleasure he takes in it, but very funny. I think he's the only person on the entire base who can fluster her, even just a little bit.

I turn to talk to the colonel and instantly realize something is wrong. I've seen that look before. This isn't good. I turn to inform Doctor Fraiser about what's happening, but from the look on her face I can see she already knows. I'm glad we sent the kids outside to play. They don't need to see this. The doctor shoos everyone into the backyard and sends me to get a wet washcloth.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I can't help but think about the colonel and how much he has come to mean to my children and I. They adore him and ask about him often. They miss him so much, and they're thrilled when we come to visit. Sometimes, I find myself thinking about him when he's off world or off duty. More and more, I find that I miss him when he's not around the mountain for whatever reason. And that makes me feel guilty. It hasn't even been three years since Scott died. While my mother says it's been long enough and I should start dating again, I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him every time I even think about dating. Just thinking about Jack, the colonel, makes me feel guilty. It doesn't help that he and Scott are so much alike.

I find the washcloth and wet it. I can't think about this right now. The colonel and Doctor Fraiser need me to have a clear hear. I ring the excess water out of the washcloth and make my way back to the living room. As I hand it to the doctor, I kneel beside the colonel and take his hand into mine. He's so stiff right now. His eyes are locked onto to something in the distance that only he can see. He's mumbling something. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but I can tell it's not English. I listen intently for a few minutes before I realize what he's saying. It's an Irish prayer called Circle me, Lord. I know he was raised as a catholic; I just though he'd completely left that part of him in the past. He repeats the prayer over and over. There's nothing the doctor and I can do but sit and talk with him and wait.

Several minutes later, he finally starts to relax. He blinks a few times then looks at us.

"How do you feel, sir?" Doctor Fraiser asks.

I have to choke back a chuckle at the look on Jack's, damn it, on the colonel's face. We help him get to his feet and he wobbles a little. I reach out a hand to help steady him and he gives me a big, goofy grin. I return it. Then he looks past me to Teal'c, who has not budged since this began, and quickly loses the smile.

As we walk outside together, I can't hide my smile. Determined to make today fun for him, I'm resolved to not say or do anything about how I'm feeling. I can work out my feelings for him later. Right now, I just glad that this little episode was as mild as it was and that he is definitely on the road to recovery.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

TEAL'C

I am alarmed by the distress I hear in O'Neill's voice. It had seemed that he was doing much better. He hadn't had a nightmare in several days. I turn to get Sergeant Grmek's attention when I see Doctor Fraiser approach him. She urges the others to go outside and requests that I stay close. Major Carter and Lieutenant Ferretti hesitate and look ready to argue but a stern look from Doctor Fraiser gets them moving. They are the last to exit. I take up a position by the sliding door, prepared to move should the doctor need my assistance. She requests for the sergeant to retrieve a wet washrag than assists O'Neill to the couch.

Sergeant Grmek nods and does as requested. She moves without hesitation. It would appear that she is unmoved by what is happening, but that would be an incorrect assumption. It is brief, but I see the concern in her eyes before she turns towards O'Neill's kitchen. It is clear to myself, Major Carter and Jonas Quinn that she has become very fond of him. I am sure Doctor Fraiser has noticed this as well.

They talk to O'Neill softly and the sergeant takes his hand into her own. As they comfort O'Neill and try to "snap him out of it" as they say, my mind takes me back to when I first met him. From the first time I looked into his eyes, I knew this human was different. There was no fear in him, at least not for his own safety, no awe or sign of subservience. His expression was well guarded, his emotions impossible to tell.

I have been questioned many times by many Jaffa about my allegiance to him and to these Tau'ri. Even Master Bra'tac. He has since come to understand and support my decision, and to count O'Neill as a friend and formidable warrior, though many others are not so understanding. They question my loyalty to the Jaffa. They do not see that the Tau'ri are the best hope for the Free Jaffa movement. Without them, we would not be where we are now. If it were not for O'Neill, there would be no open talk of freedom for our people. It is only because of O'Neill and the strength and courage, the determination, that I saw in him on that day, that I openly denounced the Goa'uld. Master Bra'tac taught me to question the Goa'uld, to see through the lies and deception. But it was O'Neill who inspired to turn my back on my "god" and fight against the Goa'uld. It was O'Neill who made me believe that our goal of a free Jaffa nation can be more than just a dream. Someday, perhaps, Bra'tac and I will be able to get the others to see in him, and the people of the SGC, what we see.

O'Neill is beginning to come around. He has been through much in the past few months. The withdrawal was hard on him, as it was on all of us who care about him. It has not been much easier since Doctor Fraiser released him from the infirmary. He slept much of the time for the first two weeks and was not pleased that either Jonas Quinn, Major Carter, or myself had to be here at all times during the first month. For the last two weeks, he has mostly been here alone. We came to see him everyday, but only stayed for short periods of time. The most violent of his nightmares seemed to have ended about three weeks ago. He still has them; they are simply not as severe or as often. We know they will continue for some time, no one expects him to be fully recovered in such a short time. Except, perhaps O'Neill himself.

Sergeant Grmek and Doctor Fraiser smile as O'Neill responds to the doctor's question. Because of how the doctor and sergeant have positioned themselves beside O'Neill, I cannot see his face, nor can I or hear if he has said anything, but knowing him as I do I can imagine what that response was. They assist him into a sitting position. After a few minutes, he stands unsteadily. The sergeant reaches out to steady him. I see his broad smile as he looks at her. He glances at me and the smile quickly disappears. We, his friends, know that he is attracted to her. I do not understand his desire to hide that fact. Or his unwillingness to act upon it. They are not directly in the same chain of command so, as I understand the Air Force's regulations, a relationship between them would not be forbidden. I cannot help but wonder if his unresolved feelings towards Major Carter are part of the reason he is hesitant in starting a relationship with the sergeant. One day, I will speak to him about that, but know is not the time.

Doctor Fraiser suggests going outside. O'Neill hesitates then smiles and nods. They make their way to the sliding glass door. The doctor and the sergeant make their way outside, smiling at me as they go. O'Neill pauses as he approaches me. He smiles then pats my shoulder and gestures outside. As we walk out side by side, my concern for him lessens. He knows that we are his friends, that we care about him and that we will always be here for him.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

SAM

Everyone is concerned. Janet just ushered us all out of the house into the backyard. The colonel suddenly told us all to leave, practically screamed it when we didn't all jump. He looked freaked.

Jonas is stunned. I don't think he knows what to make of what just happened. I've seen that look before, that far off distant look. Teal'c and I both have. Jonas hasn't. Not really. He doesn't know the colonel like we do, knows very little of his past. About the only thing he does know is that the colonel was in Special Ops for several years and that he was a test pilot for a time. He knows that Colonel had a son who dies when he was nine, although he doesn't know anything more than that. He also knows that the colonel spent time as a POW before joining the SGC, but not knowing the colonel as well as we do and having not been around him during down time like Teal'c and I have, he has never really seen the colonel zone out like he is doing now.

I understand why she wouldn't let me stay with Teal'c, but it still pisses me off a little. He's my commanding officer, my teammate, and my friend as much as he is Teal'c's. I want to be there for him. To help and support him. I do see where she is coming from though. Even with my hand-to-hand training, I'm no match for the colonel. Especially when he is fighting demons from the past. Teal'c is the only one here who has a chance in hell of restraining the colonel if it comes to that. I pray it doesn't. If it does, Janet may have to reverse her decision to let the colonel come back to work on light duty. The general may be forced to order more sessions with MacKenzie. We all know just how much the colonel _loves_ those.

Thankfully, the kids are so wrapped up in their game of hide and seek that they are blissfully unaware that anything is wrong.

I'm kinda surprised. He seemed to be doing pretty well. It's been about three weeks since he's had any episodes while he's been awake. He still has nightmares nearly every night (or at least he has on the few nights that I stayed here), but they have been pretty mild in comparison to what they had been when Janet first released him.

I jump as I feel the general's hand on my shoulder and he says, "He's going to be fine, Major."

"Yes, sir. I know, I just can't help but worry." He just nods and smiles then goes back to the others, who have moved more towards the barbecue grill and away from the door giving the colonel, Janet and Sergeant Grmek some privacy.

I watch through the glass as Janet guides him to the couch and helps him first sit then lie down. His eyes are glazed, his gaze distant. Even from this distance, I can see his body tense. Janet kneels next to him and I can no longer see his face. Shortly thereafter, the sergeant, Nurse Grmek, comes out of the kitchen with a washcloth, which she hands to Janet. Then she kneels next to her.

I can't help a slight surge of jealousy as I see the sergeant grasp the colonel's hand. I shouldn't be jealous. He and the sergeant, Erin, have become close since she transferred to the SGC. They have a lot in common and she is a very nice person. Her sense of humor is almost as wicked as his is. I tell myself it's only because I've known him longer, been his friend longer. Jonas and I, as his teammates, should be in there with him, not her. She has the medical training, but we know him better. But that's not it. No entirely. I can hide it from everyone, even try to deny it to myself, but I care about him more than I should. Even taking into account our . . . unique team. I don't think any other combat team has been together as long as we have.

The fact is that I love him, as more than a friend. Even a very close friend. Or at least I think I'm in love with him. I'm so confused. I'm not really sure how I feel. Maybe I'm just in love with the idea of being in love with him. After all, I know he is off limits. If I fool myself into thinking that I love him, I can use that as an excuse for not dating. I won't deny that I am attracted to him physically. He's handsome, more so than he gives himself credit for. None of us buy his "don't mind me I'm just the dumb colonel" routine. He makes me laugh at times. But is there more to it than that? Sometimes, I think he loves me. I catch him looking at me, but he turns as soon as he realizes that I've seen him. I wonder if there is anything more between us than lust and the knowledge that the other is a "safe" bet because our respective positions will never allow anything more than what we have are now; friends and comrades.

If the general knows, or even has a hint, of any of this (and I'm sure he does, he's a sharp man), he isn't saying. He trusts us to act like the professionals we are and not to break regs.

Knowing that doesn't help me though. The thing is, even if the regulations weren't a factor, I don't think it would work between us. We're too different. And I think that's the real reason I'm jealous of Erin, because she and the colonel do have a lot in common. The tragic loss of a young son, a love of the Simpson's, Guinness, and Bacon, mushroom, onion and green pepper pizza. Well, that and the fact that is pretty damn obvious that the colonel is attracted to her as well.

I breathe a sigh of relief as the colonel begins to stir then sits up. I can't tell if they are saying anything, but knowing them the way I do, I can imagine the exchange between the colonel and Janet and it brings a smile to my face. After a few minutes, he stands, shakily and with help. He smiles at Grmek. A big goofy smile like a love struck teenager. He notices either Teal'c or I looking at him and drops the smile.

As I watch him, I realize that it is time for me to move past this. I need to resolve my feelings and move on. Nothing is ever going to happen between Colonel O'Neill and I. The more I think about it, I really believe he could be happy with Erin, if only he'd admit that he has feelings for her. He can be pretty stubborn at times.

I don't need to turn to know that Jonas is coming up behind me. As he places as hand on my shoulder, I place mine over his. I don't need to turn to know he is smiling. Jonas almost always seems to be smiling. I know he is as relieved as I am that the colonel is okay now and that this episode didn't get any worse.

Although he still has a ways to go before Janet will put him back on active duty, I'm sure the worst of it is behind him know. Or at least, I pray that it is. As the trio makes there way to the patio, there is one thing I am sure of. Colonel O'Neill is the best CO and the best friend I have ever had. Through the good times and the bad times, I will be here for him to help him deal with what Ba'al did to him. After all, that's what friends are for.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

JACK

After an eternity, or what feels like it anyway, the air begins to feel cooler. The pain slowly subsides and I can her Janet and Grmek speaking in low, encouraging tones. My eyes stay shut, but I can feel the cool washcloth on my forehead.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love that woman? And admire her. I've never met anyone who can be so tough and gentle at the same time. Nor have I ever met a doctor who cares about her patients as much as she does.

"How do you feel, sir?"

Well that's a stupid question. I give her the usual "do you really need to ask" look I give her when she asks me that. Usually, she insists on an answer, but merely smiles and lets it slide this time. I'm relieved when I realize she isn't going to whip out her trusty pen light and blind me. I sit for a few minutes, trying to regain my bearings, before I allow Janet and Grmek to help me stand. I wobble a bit and Erin puts a hand out to steady me. I look at her and grin, and when the hell did I start referring to her, even in my own thoughts, as Erin instead of Grmek? Seeing Teal'c stare at me oddly, I realize just how goofy my grin probably is and lose it.

I look past Teal'c and see Carter looking in. She smiles when our eyes meet and I can see her relief plainly there. Jonas comes up behind her and smiles as well. Looking at them, I realize just how lucky I am to have such great friends.

I need to learn to accept their help . . . to an extent anyway. We're friends. That's what friends do. They help each other. I know that, if the situation was reversed and this had happened to any of my team (yes, even Jonas), I would be there for them. I wouldn't let them deal with it on their own.

As I walk outside with Janet and Erin, and for the first time since I walked back through the Stargate two long months ago, I feel good. I know that this isn't completely over yet, that I'll probably still have flashbacks at times, but I won't be alone. I know that, no matter what, I have friends who love me and who will always be here for me. Even when I try to push them away. That's what friends do.

_THE END_

Circle me, Lord.  
Keep protection near  
And danger afar.  
Circle me, Lord  
Keep hope within.  
Keep doubt without.  
Circle me, Lord.  
Keep light near  
And darkness afar.  
Circle me, Lord.  
Keep peace within.  
Keep evil out.


	15. Bringing Down His Barriers

**Bringing Down His Barriers  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 9/21/2008

Categories: Angst, Drama, Episode Tag, Friendship, POV

Word Count: 3,344

Author's Notes: I've been wanting to write a chapter from Cassie's PoV since I started this season, but I just never seemed to be able to find the right time in the story. Well, here it is. Many thanks, as always, to my beta reader, Cyn. Thanks, also for help with the title. Any mistakes now are my own.

* * *

Yes! It's Friday and school's out. The best part is there's some kind of teacher thing on Monday, so it'll be a long weekend. Finally, some time with Uncle Jack. Some of my friends think it's silly that I still call him uncle. After all, he's not really my uncle and I'm not a little kid anymore. I don't care what they think when it comes to that. I love him like an uncle and he spoils me like a niece. Oh, he doesn't buy me expensive gifts or anything like that. We just like to do a lot of the same things. He takes me ice-skating and to hockey and baseball games and to the zoo. Sometimes we stay home all day just watching movies or sports games. Occasionally, he even lets me do stuff Mom never would. Like having ice cream sundaes or banana splits and other junk food at three AM while watching horror movies or having double chocolate chip waffles for dinner or just stay in my pajamas all day. We also have a lot of fun together, even when we're just staying home and not doing anything at all.

Between me going to school and his work, we don't get to see each other much. Especially when he gets hurt or sick which has been happening waaaay to often. I am so looking forward to this weekend. Luckily, I don't have to pack much. Uncle Jack lets me keep some of my stuff at his place just in case an emergency comes up and I have to stay with him. I have some stuff at Sam's place too. I rarely stayed with Daniel, but I did have an outfit at his place too. I really miss him.

Uncle Jack won't admit it, but he really misses Daniel too. The whole ascension thing really bothers him. I don't know much about it. Just what Mom has told me. Basically, Daniel somehow asked Uncle Jack to get General Carter to stop healing him so he could die, ascend . . . whatever. I wish he'd talk to me. I know I can help him if he'd just let me.

Everyone seems to think everything is going to be all hunky-dory now that Mom has let him back to work (or at least that's the impression they're giving me), especially since the barbecue went so well, but I'm not buying it. For one thing, I know something went down last weekend. Uncle Jack, Mom and Sergeant Grmek were in the house alone too long. All the other adults came out looking worried. They all think I didn't notice, but I did. I knew they wouldn't tell me anything anyway, so I stayed with the other kids and kept them busy so they wouldn't notice that something was up and get scared. Which is another reason that I want to go over there. I just have this feeling that he's going to need somebody, although he'll never admit it. He's so damn stubborn sometimes. It gets really aggravating. Even though he's nowhere near as bad as Mom and Sam, he treats me like a little kid sometimes too. I know him well enough to see the signs when he's withdrawing into himself.

Do they really believe that going back on light duty is going to make everything all better? I think all of them, even Uncle Jack, are fooling themselves. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt. Maybe it'll help him some, probably not though. I know General Hammond will flood him with paper work to "keep him busy" and to "keep his mind occupied". The thing is, and they all know this, what Uncle Jack hates with a passion is paper work. Most likely, he spends half the day pestering Sam in her lab and a good part of the rest of the day daydreaming. Or dwelling on what was done to him. I seriously doubt he'll actually get much work done.

Being around a lot of people will probably only agitate him. He knows they all mean well, but all the attention he's bound to have gotten, especially the first day or two, will just make him want to be alone even more.

I hope I'm wrong. I'm praying that I'll get there and he'll be his normal chipper, mildly annoying self. That we'll do all the stuff we usually do together and that haunted look he tried to hide from me when I said goodbye last weekend will be gone. This is one time I'd love to be proven wrong. I just don't see it happening. He sounded a kinda off when I called last night to make sure nothing had come up to keep me from being able to visit. I can't put my finger on what it was, he just sounded different. Maybe he will get a lot of paper work done, as much as he despises it, he does know how important it is and can really knock it out when he puts his mind to it. Only time will tell.

I grab my favorite stuffed dog, Stitch, and throw him in my duffle bag. My favorite jean shorts and my bathing suit follow it. Last, I throw in a tank top and my sandals. I hope the rain holds off, we're supposed to go to the lake tomorrow afternoon. Slinging my duffle bag and backpack over my shoulder and bound down the stairs like an over excited five year-old. I drop my bags on the floor and quickly check Boomer's food and water bowls, Mom's working late tonight and I don't want him to run out before she gets home. That done; I take him out back so he can do his business. Once we're back inside I give him a scratch and a kiss goodbye then grab my stuff, lock the doors and head out front to wait for Uncle Jack to pick me up.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Tonight is one of our "let's see how much junk food we can eat before we puke" nights. We're having ice cream sundaes, potato chips, soda, nachos and chocolate peanut butter chunk cookies. Oh yeah, and pizza. Can't forget the pizza. "Uncle Jack, do you want Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Peanut Butter Fudge Ripple or Tin Roof Sundae ice cream?" I call out from the kitchen. Knowing him, he'll probably want some of all three. Mom really restricts his diet when he gets hurt or sick. Once the restrictions are lifted, he can really pig out. As I wait for his answer, I start making my banana split. Banana already cut up, I put the pieces in the bowl and start scooping out the ice cream. By the time I'm done, he still hasn't answered my question and that worries me. He always answers quickly.

He's been unusually quiet today. Distant. No wise cracks. No bad jokes. No busting on Jonas and his weird obsessions. There was a haunted look to his eyes when he picked me up, but he seemed okay on the car ride here, asked me a few questions about school and stuff. For the last half hour or so, however, he hasn't said more than two words to me. I walk into the living room where, when I left a little bit ago, he was setting up the chips and stuff. Right now he's sitting on the couch staring at the TV. Normally that wouldn't be anything unusual, but the TV is off.

I stop a few feet from him. "Uncle Jack?" No answer. It's almost as if he doesn't hear me. I walk closer and try again, "Uncle Jack are you okay?" Still no answer. This isn't good. I've seen him zone out before, though it's been a while since that's happened, and realize that it isn't the TV he's staring at now, but something only he can see. I reach out slowly and put a hand on his shoulder.

That was a really, _really_ boneheaded move on my part. I should have known better. I can be such an idiot sometimes.

Before I have a chance to blink, Uncle Jack has me down on the floor with my arm pinned painfully behind my back and his knee planted firmly in the lower part of my spine. He says something in a language I don't understand that I have a sinking suspicion translates roughly as "move and I'll break your arm" or something like that. I can't help the whimper that escapes my lips. "Oww, oww, oww, Uncle Jack, please, you're hurting me."

That seems to snap him out of it and he jumps up quickly. He looks me with a look of fear and self-loathing. Blinks a few times, opens his mouth then shuts it then does it again. After a few seconds, he says, "Cassie, call your Mom. I think you should go home." He stares at me so intently, it's a bit unnerving.

Well, that came out of left field. Sure, that little episode was kinda scary. Okay, a lot scary, but still, I'm not afraid of him. I know he'd never really hurt me and I don't want to go home. I want to stay here and help him. I want to be here for him like he's always been for me. Yeah, so, definitely not calling my mom. Whether he likes it or not, I'm not going anywhere. He's stuck with me until Monday night.

"What? No way, Uncle Jack. You said I could sleep over. We haven't really had time to do anything together since . . ." My voice trails off. I'm not sure if the episode was caused by what Ba'al did to him or if it was because of something from his Special Ops days. Maybe it was a combination of things. I don't know the full extent of what was done to Uncle Jack, but I do know some. Mom wouldn't tell me much; just that he was captured by a Goa'uld named Ba'al who tortured him. I was pretty pissed at her for a while. Not only would she not tell me what was going on with Uncle Jack, but she wouldn't let me see him either. Even after she had cleared him to go home, she still wouldn't let me visit him. The barbecue a few days ago was the first time I've seen him since before he was captured. With everybody else around, we didn't really get a chance to talk much though. I know very _very_ little about his Special Ops days, but I know some really bad stuff happened to him during that time too.

I hate all the people here on Earth who have hurt my "uncle". I hate the Goa'uld. I hate the Tok'ra. _Especially_ the Tok'ra. It's their fault he got captured. If it weren't for Kanan, Uncle Jack never would have been on that planet. Mom says it isn't their fault, that I shouldn't blame all the Tok'ra for the actions of one individual. Screw that. It's their whole mentality that makes me so mad at them. They talk all their crap about how they are nothing like the Goa'uld and that they have a "truly symbiotic relationship with their hosts", but it's not true. They are just as bad, if not worse. At least the Goa'uld don't lie about what happens when they take over. I've heard Mom, Uncle Jack, and the rest of SG-1 talking about the Tok'ra and they don't seem to think much more of humans than the Goa'uld do. The only real difference that I see between them is that the Tok'ra ask before they take a host and they don't use humans as slaves. From what I've overheard, they don't treat them as much more than servants. Never let them go on missions or do much of anything to help in the fight against the Goa'uld. Seems like they don't see humans in general as much more than small children who need constant supervision and can't really take care of themselves.

Then again, I'm not sure I believe them about the slave thing either. Jolinar didn't ask before taking over Sam. She made her a prisoner in her own body. Granted, she was desperate and about to die at the time, but what she did was still wrong. And it wasn't just Sam either. She did the same thing to that guy that Sam was trying to save. How many people was she willing to take hostage just to save her own butt?

"Cassie, don't argue with me."

His snapped response pulls me out of my thoughts. Reflexively, I take a step back at the tone of his voice. I recover quickly and ask, "Why? I thought you said you missed me. Don't you want me around?" I know I'm not really being fair, but I don't care. I miss him. I just want to spend some time with him. Why is he pushing me away? I know he still has nightmares and stuff, but I'm not a child anymore. I'm almost sixteen years old. I can handle it. I can help him if he'll just let me. Why won't he let me help him? Jeez, he can be such a freaking hypocrite sometimes. I mean, he's always telling me not to bottle things up. That I can always talk to him if I need too. So, I ask again, why won't he talk to _me_? He doesn't need to give me all the details (and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know every single detail of what was done to him), just let me in a little. That's all I'm asking.

"I know you think I'm just a kid, but I can help you if you'll just let me." I want to say more, but he interrupts me.

"There's nothing you can do. You have no clue what I've been through," he puts up a hand to silence me as I open my mouth to protest, "and I hope you never do. I know you want to help me, but I don't want you to. I don't want you to see me like this. You don't need to hear about any of the crap in my head right now. I need to be alone. I can deal with this on my own. Call your mother and have her pick you up now, or I'll do it myself."

I can be just as stubborn as he can. I cross my arms and glare at him. "No."

He's getting angry with me now. It's a scary thing, knowing that, but I don't budge. "Christ, kid! You're as pigheaded as your mother. Get the god damn phone and call her." Seeing that I'm not moving, he bellows, "Now, young lady."

This time, I don't even flinch. Crap! Like he's got room to talk about me being stubborn! "You don't have to tell me everything. You don't have to get specific about anything, just talk to me." It's my turn to stop his interruption. "I'm not a little kid anymore. You can talk to me you know. Just talk to me for crying out loud!" I'm close to tears now. I have to make him see that this is affecting everyone, not just himself. "You don't have to do this alone. You don't even really have to talk about what Ba'al did to you at all, or all the people from Earth that hurt you. Just admit that you're scared, that you're not made of stone and you need a shoulder to cry on sometimes. Everyone does." I pause for a minute than add, "You can't keep it all bottled up. You can't keep hiding from the people who care about you. The SGC needs you, SG-1 needs you . . . _I_ need you. Please, Uncle Jack, please don't shut me out. Don't push me away." I can't keep the pleading tone out of my voice, nor do I want to.

As I stand and wait for his reaction, my mind drifts back to just before the Tok'ra took Uncle Jack to their planet. Mom let me visit him briefly before the Tok'ra offered the symbiote. She wanted to give me a chance to say goodbye. He was so pale and weak. By that time, Mom had removed the nasal cannula and put the oxygen mask on him. She'd warned me before had about how bad he was, but I still wasn't prepared for what I'd seen. I've never seen him so sick before. Sure I've seen him in bad shape before, but he's always cracked jokes and tried to play his injury or illness down before. This last time he just laid there so still. He barely opened his eyes. I'm not sure if he even remembers that I was there. I was supposed to be saying goodbye, but I refused. I just sat there and held his hand as I talked to him, filling him in on school stuff and this really hot boy who just transferred in a few days ago.

Finally, his shoulders slump and the anger drains from him. He closes the short distance between us. "Come here," he says as he pulls me into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he mutters.

He's holding me a little tighter than is really comfortable, but I don't try to push him away at all. Instead I just wrap my arms around his waist and return the hug with all my strength. We stand quietly for several minutes before it hits me. "Crap!" I exclaim as I suddenly remember the ice cream I left on the counter. I break from the embrace and make a beeline for the kitchen with Uncle Jack close on my heels.

"What's wrong?" Uncle Jack asks.

As we enter the kitchen and approach the counter, it's pretty clear. The ice cream I'd scooped into my bowl is gone. In its place is melted mixture of Peanut Butter Fudge ice cream, chocolate syrup and cool whip. Half a dozen cherries are spread out around the think globs. I check the three ice cream cartons next to the bowl. Like I thought, they are all half melted. Unlike my bowl of ice cream, they might be salvageable. I always liked ice cream when it's kinda melty anyway.

"Well," Uncle Jack says with a smile, "I guess banana splits are out."

I nod in agreement as I return his smile. I pick up my bowl, careful not to spill the contents and make my way to the garbage disposal. While I'm taking care of that, Uncle Jack disposes of the three melted cartons of ice cream. Okay, so no ice cream. Together we make short work of cleaning up the rest of the counter. I deposit the dirty bowl, ice cream scooper and silverware into the dishwasher then put the clean bowl and spoon where they belong as Uncle Jack puts the chocolate syrup, can of cool whip and the jar of cherries in the fridge. With the kitchen clean, we head back into the living room.

While Uncle Jack finishes situating our snacks, I set our milkshakes on the coffee table then go over to the entertainment stand and pop a DVD into the player. I had originally planned on making it a horror night tonight, but I think we could both use a good laugh and someone to root for tonight as they kick the crap out of the bad guys. I look at his face as I walk back to the couch and notice that the haunted look he's had all day is gone. I'm glad. I sit beside him and pick up my bowl of chips then lean back and watch as the opening credits of "Lethal Weapon 2" come up. I know that he will probably never say anything to me about what's been done to him, by that stupid snake or anyone else, but at least now he won't push me away anymore.

That's enough for me.

_TBC_


	16. End

**End  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 11/28/2008

Spoilers: Minor ones for Solitudes, Meridian & Abyss

Content Warnings: Minor Language

Word Count: 1744

Author's Notes: At the end.

* * *

JANET

Cassie thinks I'm letting him go back too soon and I should keep him on light duty for a few more weeks at least. She's worried about him. It's been two weeks since "the incident" at his house. The rest of the weekend had gone well and had, blessedly, been uneventful. That first night rattled her though. She's scared that he, and these are her words, will "like totally freak out or freeze" if something triggers a memory. SG-1's first mission since his return is _supposed_ to be a cakewalk. No indigenous life. No sign of the Goa'uld for centuries. The problem is, and Cassie knows this as well, that SG-1's missions, even the "easy" ones, often end with one or more members of SG-1 getting hurt. More often than not that someone is Jack.

I can't blame her for being concerned, but I can't hold the colonel back either. He passed the all of the psychological examines. Jumped through MacKenzie's "hoops", as he put it. Physically, he's fully recovered. He has regained his strength and enough of the weight that he'd lost that I'm satisfied he's eating properly now. I think part of her wanting me to postpone the colonel's return to active duty is for selfish reasons. She is missing her "Uncle" Jack. She misses Sam too, but they get together at least twice a month to play chess. Cassie usually winds up spending the weekend at Sam's at least once every two or three weeks. And Daniel. She misses him too. I don't blame her for wanting that time with Colonel O'Neill. He is very much a father figure to her and he benefits a great deal from the relationship as well.

As much as I'd like to, I just can't justify putting it off any longer. Medically speaking, there's no reason he can't go. Plus, he's getting antsy. He's anxious to go back through the 'gate, to get back into the fray. Mentally speaking, I think delaying his return, even if I could justify it, would do him more harm than good. For the most part, I believe him when he says he's dealt with what was done with him. I don't agree with the way he deals with these kinds of things, and if it were anyone else I wouldn't buy it for a second, but it works for him. He freely admitted he still has the occasional nightmare, but nothing too bad.

I had told him when he'd come over for a visit this past Friday, that MacKenzie and I had discussed it and that we were clearing him for active duty as of Monday. He looked so happy I really thought he was going to start dancing around the house. Cassie, on the other hand, looked pissed. Oh, she didn't say anything while he was there because she didn't want to bust the colonel's bubble, but I could tell I was in for an earful when he left. Boy did she ever lay into me. She still won't talk to me. I'm not worried though. She's a teenager. She'll get over it eventually. However, she did take the colonel's truck keys and refused to give them back until he promised to take her camping next weekend. He did without hesitation and she reluctantly gave him back his keys.

This ordeal has been extremely hard on all of us. He does look the best he has since before he got sick, but every now and then I still catch that haunted look in his eyes. I don't think he's completely over it; don't see how he ever really could be. But no matter what happens, we will always be here when he needs us.

Just like he is always here for us.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

JACK

For what seems like the millionth time is the past five minutes, I check my watch. Jonas is late. Again. Why does this not surprise me? I swear he's almost as bad as Daniel. I tap my radio. "Yo, Jonas," I say, "get a move on it."

I try to sound pissed, or at least a little irritated, but I just can't manage it. I'm in too good of a mood. It's been nearly two _long_ months since I returned from my little sojourn to Ba'al's House Of Torture. I was supposed to be back on active duty a week ago, but after that little zone out episode at my place, Doc and The Quack decided I needed another week.

I considered arguing, of pleading my case to Hammond to let me go back last week, but I didn't. There was no way in hell Fraiser was going to give in and Hammond would only back her up. Probably would have threatened me with extra paperwork if I'd tried. Thanks, but no thanks. I had enough waiting for me when I went back on light duty as it is. I just finished the last of it yesterday morning.

I was just about ready to do a damn jig around Janet's kitchen when she told me I was finally getting put back on active duty. It's about damn time. Getting back to work is what I need right now, despite what Cassie thinks. I'll be able to bury what that bastard did to me deep in the recesses of my mind where I hide all the other crap I'd rather not think about again.

God, I can't wait. It's another empty planet, supposedly, with some "interesting" ruins. According to Carter, there may be naquadah there too. Hammond decided we needed a nice, quiet mission for my first trip through the 'gate, so we're off to P30-991. Boring as this will be for me, I really _really_ hope the UAV is right this time and the only indigenous life forms are a few funky looking birds that are all, thankfully, smaller than the average house cat, a small herd of horse-like creatures and a few other assorted smallish critters.

I check my watch again. Christ! If I didn't know any better, I'd swear Daniel and Jonas were brothers or something. I tap my radio again. "Come on, Jonas shake a leg," I say just as he comes running through the blast door. He comes to a skidding stop not even eight inches from me. His arms pinwheel as he tries to stop himself from crashing into me. The scene is pretty damn funny, but I manage to keep a straight face as I scold him, without the usual bite behind my words, for being late and readjust his pack. I don't have to turn around to know that Carter is doing her damndest to not laugh out loud. Teal'c, I'm sure, has an eyebrow raised at the least. As I finish, I glance up to the control room. Hammond is getting a kick out of this too. Figures.

I really should be angry with Jonas for being late. Again. But I just can't. I'm just to damn happy to be home again. It's been a long and difficult climb out of the abyss Ba'al's treatment lead me to, but I did it with the help of my friends and family. I'm home now where I belong. Safe and sound and surrounded by the people I care about most in this world and who return the sentiment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

HAMMOND

Although Jonas, Teal'c, and Major Carter have each gone on a few missions, some together some separate; since then, this is their first mission together in the nearly eight weeks since Jack came back to us. I can see the excitement in Jack's eyes as he waits not so patiently for Jonas Quinn. As per usual, he's late.

Jack taps his radio and says, "Yo, Jonas, get a move on it."

I'm not sure what Jonas' response is, but the look on Jack's face right now is comical. I swear I just heard him mutter something about Doctor Jackson. It's good to see him mention Daniel with a smile. Not to mention that he has actually referred to Daniel and Jonas in the same sentence without looking like he was ready to kill something.

Or someone.

Jonas, to be specific.

It's a start.

Several minutes later Jonas hasn't arrived yet and Jack taps his radio again.

"Come on, Jonas, shake a leg," he says just as Jonas comes running into the gate room. I can't help but laugh as Jonas nearly collides with Jack. Major Carter's hand flies to her mouth to stifle her laughter. I believe I've heard something about Jack warning the Major against giggling. Something to do with that little 'gate mishap several years ago that sent the two of them to a very cold part of the planet.

"It's about time, Mister Quinn," I say as he takes his position alongside his teammates. For a while, I was afraid the site before me was one I'd never see again. It was a sad thought and I'm glad things worked out so well.

Jack mumbles something as he straightens out Jonas' pack. His face is serious but I catch that look in his eyes, the one he always has every time he steps through the gate to some place new. A mixture of apprehension and excitement. To those who don't know him, he looks calm and cool. As if it wouldn't matter less to him if he ever stepped through that shimmering pool again. Those of us who know him know better. Sure, he's prepared for just about anything and takes his job very seriously, but he's also about as excited as a kid in a candy store.

The scene below gives me a sense of deja vu. I'm glad to see that Jonas seems to finally be finding his place with the team. I have to admit, even after Jack came to me about adding Jonas as his fourth, I had my doubts about whether Jack would ever accept him. He will never take Daniel's place on the team or in their hearts, but I'm glad to see he's making his own.

He finally finishes adjusting Jonas' pack. "Colonel O'Neill?"

His reply is a thumbs-up and a broad grin.

"SG-1, you have a go."

"Okay campers, you heard the man. Move it or lose it!"

As they walk slowly up the ramp, Jack turns and gives me his famous half-assed salute and I say the words I know they all, especially Jack, are waiting to hear.

"God speed."

_THE END_

END NOTES: Well, it's been a long nineteen months since I started this series, but it has finally come to an end. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I loved looking into the relationships Jack has with the various members of his team and others in the SG 'verse.

I'd like to say a huge HUGE thanks to all of you who have stayed with me during this and those who have sent me all those lovely comments, I appreciate each and every one of them. Thanks!!!

I wanted to do another part from each of the team's PoV's as well as another one from Erin Grmek's, but I felt it was really time to end this. Anymore would have been just needlessly dragging it out. For those of you who liked the Jack/Erin sorta shippy elements in some parts of this and wanted more, fear not! I do have some ideas for a fic or two about them getting together. It may even spawn yet another series. Many thanks, as always, to Cyn for betaing this for me.


End file.
